Undone
by Trisha
Summary: Spike and Buffy revisit their pasts together, literally, in an effort to save Dawn's life. A spoiler-free post-Grave story.
1. Default Chapter

Undone 

Chapter One

Spoilers: Through Grave, but no season 7 spoilers.

Disclaimer: This is just for fun and practice. None of the characters/concepts are mine.

Author's Note: Thanks to Sass for the beta, as always you are great! And thanks to everyone who supported and reviewed my last fic, The Keeper of Truth. Because of you all, it's been nominated twice in the Watching You awards. I appreciate it so much!

****

            That Spike was back didn't surprise her. She'd always known he'd return, eventually. Tenacious to the core, that was Spike. It was his signature quality, the first and last she'd known of him. How had Angel put it, that day in the library? "Once he starts something he doesn't stop until everything in his path is dead." 

Those words were the first to cross her mind when Clem told her of Spike's return. Her stomach had clenched but she'd been determined not to let anything show. She'd smiled kindly, if a bit tightly, and nodded her thanks before going on to ask Clem if he'd keep Dawn company for the night. She had patrolling to do and Dawn, feeling sick, hadn't wanted to be alone.

Both Clem staying over and Dawn being sick had occurred enough over the past six months to become routine. With all the Scoobies still in England, and Dawn's doctors unable to offer a diagnosis for her symptoms, it seemed that the routine wouldn't be changing anytime soon.   

            Except now, Spike was back. There were issues to be faced. _No matter what he says, things won't change, _Buffy told herself as she neared the crypt, her fists jammed into the pockets of her oldest, most comfortable sweatshirt. 

            Reaching the door, she paused a moment to press her hand against the wood, warm from the barely-set sun. Memories washed over her, of fear, of repugnance… of a need so great, the walls of her body could barely contain it. _Forget it. All I need from him now is to know he's okay. That's all. Just so I can live with myself._

She knew she'd used him. There was no excuse for it, not really. Just a walking, sometimes-breathing vibrator, that's how she'd treated him. Even when she'd slipped, when she started to forget, to treat him like a man, it never lasted beyond the final, gasping climax or the flustered rush to cover her nakedness that followed. 

_Liar. _The word whipped through her. She sucked in sharply, her hands clenching against the planks of the door. Okay, so there had been feelings. Her feelings, his… love, maybe. His love, almost for sure. She'd seen it in his eyes many times, but most of all, she'd seen it in his horror at what he'd almost done. 

_Buffy, my god, I didn't … _And he hadn't meant to, she knew it. She knew **him**. He'd meant to do exactly what he said- to make her feel. To make her feel for him. It wasn't okay. Not even a little. But she understood it. Spike was who he was, or rather, **what** he was. A demon. A monster. To forget that had been her biggest mistake. She'd let the lion out of the cage and she'd turned her back on it.

If he'd been a man, she would have never forgiven him. She would've had him in jail months ago. But he wasn't a man. He was a monster, and he'd acted as such. She could no more hold the attack against him than she could hold violence against that lion. 

_And he never held it against me._ The inner whisper was cold and lashing. _He never held any of it against me. _

There was a possibility that he was mad at her. That he wouldn't want to see her. He'd had more than six months to think over what had happened between them. What if he had started to blame her from what she'd done? The beating in the alley- _All the beatings, _she remembered with shame. All the damage, things little and big she'd done to him, things that changed his life enough to send him running out of town. 

_No. No, I can't think that. He left town horrified at himself, not at me_. She called up the image of his eyes, shaken, aghast. And of his trembling body, crouched where she'd kicked him on her bathroom floor. A terrible night for them both, and not one she'd ever forget. He wouldn't have been able to forget it either, she was sure. That night was the turning point in their relationship. The ending. 

Shaking her head, she cleared her mind of all thoughts of the past. _Just go in, make sure he's okay. Ease your conscience and your curiosity, and leave. No need for big, dramatic scenes._

            She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and flung the door open. Striding inside as she'd done a million times before, she stood in the center of the room, her hands on her hips. She raised her chin boldly and cocked her head to the side, listening, searching for him in the thick darkness. "Spike? Are you here?"

A crashing sound rose from below, followed by a rapid scrambling. Moving closer to the opening in the ground, she heard someone coming up the ladder. "Spike?"

She watched as he climbed up the last few steps, though it was too dark to make out his details. He scuttled away as soon as he reached the upper level, his silhouette hunched and thin. She took a step towards him. He moved farther away, keeping several feet of darkness between them. "Spike… that is you, right?"   

            "It is," he said. His voice made her frown. It sounded forced, graveled, and decidedly un-Spike like. He leaned against the far wall. Though he faced her direction, she knew he wasn't looking at her.  

            _Something's wrong. He's not acting right. He's not acting… Spike-like._ She backed up until her knees hit the cold stone of the sarcophagus, as if distance could give her a clearer view of him, but he was still just an outline, a shape she once could have traced from memory and now could barely recognize. "Spike? What's wrong with you?"

            "Who are you?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is my home you're in. I live here again, and you should really learn to knock before entering someone's… someone's home. My home."

            Her jaw slackened as she stood there, shocked and very shaken. "It's me. Buffy."

            With a sharp laugh, Spike started back towards the opening to the lower level. "You're not Buffy. Buffy doesn't look like you. She has hair, a face… you're just a shadow, little spook." He knelt on the ground, putting one foot on the ladder.

            "Spike, wait." Beside her sat a candle, with a match on the round base of its holder. She lit it with a quick strike and held it up to illuminate her features. "See, it's me. Hair, face, the whole works." She took in the narrow set of his shoulders, frozen now as he watched her, and her voice softened. "It's me, Spike. Just me. Buffy."

            Rising slowly, he was silent for a moment, standing stiff and still as a statue. Buffy could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't move for fear of scaring him away. The sound of her breathing rasped in her ears; she bit her lip and forced herself to be calm. The nails of her left hand bit into her palm, and her right clenched so tightly around the candle holder, the brass seemed to burn her skin. _Be stiller than still, _she told herself. _Be quieter than quiet. Don't give him an excuse to run away._

Finally he took a cautious step towards her. His eyes blinked rapidly as he stepped into the candle light. Buffy forced herself not to recoil as the tangy stench of him fell over her. He looked worse than he smelled, all hollow eyes and cheekbones in a face gaunt and grimy, but at least the cheekbones were familiar and the eyes were focusing, sharpening in on her own. 

"Buffy?" he said finally, the word bursting out of him in a gasp. 

Relief made her smile. "It's me. Where have you been?"

            "Buffy," he gasped again, as if she hadn't spoken. His eyes flickered over her face, down her body. When they rose again to meet hers, they were filled with tears. He whipped around, hiding the tears from her only long enough to scrub them from his face with his sleeves. He turned back slowly, his shoulders hunched over. She could see the top of his head, his hair long now, and tangled. Her fingers itched to touch him there, at the top of his being, but a shudder tore through him, shaking his frame and telling her to hold back. Straightening slightly, he let out a long, audible breath. "God, Buffy."

            "Spike… you look…" She couldn't finish over the tears that burned in the back her throat. Swallowing hard, she move towards him and found some relief when he did not shy away. "Spike… what… what did you do?"

             His lips twitched as he considered her question. "What did I do? I… nothing. Sorry, I… it's all still very confusing. I get lost, sometimes, inside my head. Lost in the past, you might say."

            "Your hands," she said, noticing them for the first time. Bandages bound him from wrists to fingertips. Even in the dimness she could see they needed changing. "The bandages aren't clean." 

            "Can't fix them by myself." He brought them up against his chest protectively. "Clem offered to help, but…"

            "But what?"

            He dropped his eyes. "I… I don't know."

            "Confused, you said. Lost." Rising from the sarcophagus, she reached out and almost touched his arm. Almost. "Come on. We'll take care of you."

            "We?"  
  


            "Dawn and I. And Clem. We're going to my house. I have clean bandages." Sniffing pointedly, she said, "And clean clothes. They're Xander's, but they'll fit if you don't mind the baggy look. Once we get you cleaned up, we'll talk."

            "You're taking me…" He trailed off, dropping his head. "Sorry. It's hard to follow… people. Words."  
  


            "Are you always like this?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.

            Something sparked in his expression. _Good. Something's still alive in there._ He lifted his chin, his eyes steady. "No." One word, simple and straight, that told her the Spike she knew was inside this filthy shell, somewhere.

            "We'll take care of you," she repeated, and gestured towards the door. "Come on. I'll follow."

            But he didn't move. Light from the candle flickered in his eyes, two bright pinpricks. A shudder passed through her as she scrutinized his face. Reading past the aloofness, past the stillness and cloud of bewilderment, she found something else, something familiar: an almost-unperceivable note of longing. He recoiled away from her gaze, but his arm quaked out towards her.   

            Winding her hand around his elbow, she drew him out the door beside her. "I'll take care of you," she whispered into the night as they walked together, out of the cemetery and down the long street towards home.

*****

            They were walking up the front steps when the screaming started. Two screams, one low, one ear piercingly high. 

"Dawn," Buffy muttered, releasing Spike's arm and bursting through the door. "Dawn!"

"Up here!" Clem's shout barely carried over Dawn's shrieking. 

"In her bedroom. I can feel her," Spike said, surprising Buffy. He ran up the stairs in front of her, taking them two at a time and tearing off his bandages as he went. Buffy went up after him, stepping over the white scraps of cloth, confusion and fear making her stomach roll. 

They reached the doorway to Dawn's bedroom at the same time. Buffy pushed past him only to stop dead in her tracks. "Oh my god," she said, her eyes widening even as she shielded them from the green light beaming from her sister's skin. Dawn was lying on her bed. Buffy couldn't tell if she'd seen them come in, but the girl fell silent and curled her knees up to her chest. Buffy had to swallow a scream of her own when she saw her sister's eyes. Nothing human remained in them, only pure, fluorescent energy.

"What's happening to her?" Clem asked, sliding down the wall he was huddled against. Every roll of skin on his face quivered with fear.

            Buffy opened her mouth to say, _I don't know, I'm just the Slayer, this is something else, **she's** something else,_ but before she could speak, Spike gripped Clem by the neck and hefted him up to face level.

            "You know what's wrong with her, you bloody git." He turned away from Clem to look at Dawn, his mouth a thin, tense line. "It's the Key. It's flooding out of her. I can sense it, so can you."

            A frightening thought filled Buffy's mind. Spike read it in her eyes and nodded, confirming her fear. Her eyes shot warily to the window. "If you can both sense the Key, any demon can."

            "Right. And who knows how long she's been leaking bits of Key all over the place. Demons with a better nose for these things could've been sensing her for weeks." Releasing Clem, Spike went to the window and closed the shutters with a firm movement. "Better batten down the hatches. Who knows what'll come knocking at your door when word get out that the Key is here. You need to make a plan, and do it now. Don't know how long I'll be able to… be here. Really here. Clear like this. So, plan."

            Buffy hovered over Dawn, her hands fluttering in the air above her sister's green aura. Lowering herself onto the edge of the bed, she passed a finger through the light. It felt warm, but not painful, so she gathered Dawn into her lap and held her close. Dawn didn't seem to be conscious, but it was difficult to tell. She had no pulse, no heartbeat, and hadn't for more than a week. It'd been months since she'd first noticed that her sister's flu wasn't going away. _Some flu. _It was only when her heart had stopped that Buffy realized something supernatural was going on. Giles hadn't been able to offer any help, though he was looking into it. And Dawn had seemed fine enough, despite her symptoms… she'd been happy, they'd spent so much time together, **happy** time. 

Hugging her sister harder, Buffy looked up at Spike. "I don't know how to help her. She's been sick, and there have been… other things, or, I mean, things that should have been there weren't, but… there wasn't anything I could do, I didn't know what to do for her, and she seemed okay, despite everything, so… we need to do something. Protect her." 

            "Whatever you want to do, we'd better do it quick if you need my help." He touched his hand to his temple, his voice dropping with shame. "It's hard to say how long my focus lasts. Hard to hold onto it."

            Trying to stay calm, she stroked Dawn's hair. "Have you been like this ever since you left Sunnydale?"  
  


            "No. But close. I… went somewhere, after. And…" He shook his head. "No time for explanations now. What's the plan? You want me to sit with the Nibblet while you call in the cavalry?"

             "They can't help us fight, they're in England." At his surprised look, she said, "No explanations, remember? Things went bad, and they left to make them better. We're on our own."

            Clem raised his hand hesitantly. He looked back and forth between Buffy and Spike, finally settling on Buffy. "You could call Anya. She'd come and set up a barrier spell."

            "No," Buffy said, flushing when the word came out strong than she'd meant it to. She couldn't bring herself to look at Spike, to see his reaction. "Anya's busy with her store, and with her other… job. We don't need her."

            "Demon girl's not strong enough to keep out the sort of creatures who'd come sniffing out the Key, anyhow." Rubbing his hands together, Spike sighed. "You've got weapons downstairs still?"  
  


            "Yes, but you can't fight with them. Your hands are hurt."

            He shrugged. "I've gotten used to the pain. What do you want us to do?"  
  


            Easing Dawn onto her pillow, Buffy pulled the blanket up around the curl of her sister's body and tucked it in snugly. "I don't want to leave her here. Not when she's all glowey. But I need to call Giles, get his opinion."

            "You think the Watcher'll have any clue what to do? He didn't know any more about the Key than we did, if I remember right."

            Buffy smoothed the hair back from Dawn's face, then stood. "Someone's got to have a better idea than the big nothing I've been able to come up with."

            "You guys really think we'll have to fight? Tonight?" Clem sidled towards the doorway. "Maybe the demons are all busy. Doing demon stuff. It's Friday night, you know."

            "If Spike could sense her from outside, we could be in big trouble. Who knows what kind of demon might walk by and want the Key for his very own. Clem, you stay with Dawn."

            "Umm, well, about that. You know I like Dawn, but…"

            "But what?" Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were heated. "What's wrong?" 

            Not waiting to hear his answer, Spike grabbed Clem's shoulder. "You're going to help. Who knows how many demons we could be facing."

            He squirmed, uneasy. "I'm not so much for the fightey stuff. Not that I'm a chicken. Nope, it's just that…"

            Buffy put her hand on his other shoulder and squeezed. "It's just nothing. You're staying up here. If anything gets through you to my sister, you're going to die a very painful death, probably in separate piles. Capiche?"

            Gulping, he said, "It's not that I don't want to help. I'm just…"

            Buffy gave him a gentle push towards the bed. "Just scream. I'll be up here to help before you know it. But if I'm not, you know what to do."

            "What would that be?" said a strange voice from the hallway. A man sauntered into the room. He surveyed the room, casual, as if he saw beaming green teenagers every day. "Keep the likes of me outside? Why, Buffy. I'm hurt. We're such old friends, and yet you're instructing demons to keep me away from your dear, bright sister. No welcome mat, no pot of coffee… you haven't even said hello."   

Moving between her sister and the man, Buffy shook her head at Spike, warning him to stand down for now. Every muscle of her body stiffened as she faced the man who grinned at her. Through gritted teeth, she said, "Hello, Ethan."

            "That's better, dear. Now that we've been pleasant, let's get to business. I'm expecting a few friends to arrive shortly. Well, not friends so much as… I'm not sure what you'd call them, actually. How many demons does it take before the term 'horde' applies?"

            Before she answered, Buffy took a deep breath. _Mom always said, never give in to bullies.  But then, the kid who stole my lunch money in kindergarten didn't worship chaos.  _"I get it. You travel with company of the toothy variety, and this is one of those deals where you'll- what? Sic them on us if we don't give you what you want?"

            He had the gall to send her a wink. Buffy had to clench her hands into fists to keep herself from punching the look off his face. When she didn't move, he continued. "Ah, Buffy. Always the wordsmith. Ripper did a magnificent job with you."

"I'm so going to kick your ass. And if it's my sister you want, I'm going to tell you no and then kick your ass. And let me tell you just how sorry about that I'm not."

            "No, no. I'm not here to harm you, or your sister. The demons might, but not me."

            Buffy smirked, eyeing Ethan's thin frame. "As if you could." 

 

"This guy a friend of yours, Slayer?" Spike edged closer to Buffy, frowning at Ethan.

"Ethan's never here as a friend. Never."

            "Never," Ethan agreed. "Never, except for now, if you listen to me. And I think you will."

            "What do you want?" she said, her voice edgy with impatience. 

            "To help you. And her." He looked into the brilliance of Dawn's eyes. "Word's spreading through the underworld. The Key to unlock dimensions, here in Sunnydale. I was contacted by a group of men. They thought I could be of help to them, seeing as how you and I are such close mates, that you would let me get close enough to her- to the Key- to swipe it, and give it to them. For a price. A price with a lot of zeros on the end."

            Buffy's eyes narrowed. "That's never gonna happen, Ethan."   

He let out a sigh of mock-regret. "Yes, well, I didn't expect it would."

            "But you accepted their offer? They're paying you?"

            His grin widened. "I've been pre-paid. Only, I am truly here to help you."

            "You've come to warn us about the men?"  
  


            "Not just them. I was also contacted by the demon horde I spoke of… they'll be here within the hour."

            "The demons are paying you too?"

            "Not as such. More of a 'they won't kill me if I give them what they want' sort of deal."

            "And what they want is Dawn. The Key."

            "You never were a stupid girl. You see, I really am here to help. This time." 

            "Why would you do that? Last I checked, you were hanging out in prison on the Initiative's dime. I'm not guessing that endeared me to you much."

            A shadow fell over his face, and he looked away, but only for a moment. When he met Buffy's eyes again, all traces of mockery had vanished. "Prison was a bloody misery, but that's beside the point.  These demons want to use the Key to end the world. Armageddon. Poof. The end. As much as I appreciate chaos, well, all things in moderation. I do so like being alive."

            Buffy didn't soften, though she was tempted. He looked so sincere, but he was still Ethan Rayne. Still their enemy. "So you've come to give us a heads up about the men and the demons who are after the Key. Okay, great. Thanks. Now, there's the door. Bye-bye. Don't come back to Sunnydale, unless you get a yen for a serious beating." 

            "One more thing. The demons. They're not the brightest crayons in the box, but the men were smart enough to dig up my connections to Ripper, and his to you. The demons will be fairly simple for you to dispose of, superior-strength having girl that you are, but the men… well, I did a little digging of my own, and what I found was disturbing."

            "Yes?"

            "The Knights of Byzantium ring any bells?"

            Buffy paled slightly, but shook her head. "Nope, sorry. They're dead. Got on the bad side of a hell god."

            "I heard about that. You're looking rather sprightly for a corpse."

            "So then you know, Glory killed all of the Knights. Your sources must be wrong."

            "They're still alive. I've seen them myself, not two nights ago. And they want to destroy the Key."

            Spike sank onto the bed next to Dawn. A fine sheen of sweat filmed his face. It occurred to Buffy that he was barely holding on to himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to break down in front of Ethan, the master of exploiting weakness. She reached towards him, but he brushed her off and addressed Ethan.

"Why? Glory's dead, and we'll take care of these demons. The girl's not a danger to anyone, not now." 

            "The Knights disagree. They want her, and they want to kill her. Kill the girl, kill the Key." Ethan looked at Dawn's huddled form with something resembling pity. "But from the looks of things, they might be spared the work."

"She's not dying." Even as Buffy said the words, she knew they were a lie.

            "She is. Either from what's going on here, whatever that might be, or from the Knight's swords. That's what I've come to tell you." He studied her face with his enigmatic expression for a long beat as she stared at him, motionless. "There, I've done the good-guy job, alerted the heroine to her foe. I'll be going now." 

            She watched silently as Ethan turned and walked out of the room. When Spike made a move to follow him, she threw her hand up to blocked his path.  "No, let him go. We don't have time for him right now."

            Her hand struck the backs of his. Wincing, he yanked them away from her and hid them behind his back before she could see them. "Uhm, okay," he said abruptly, as if trying to distract her from his wounds. "Your plan, Slayer?"

            _He's hiding something, _she thought fleetingly, but let it go. "Clem, stay in here with Dawn. Pack her a bag- some clothes, her tooth brush, stuff like that. Spike, go to the kitchen. There's blood in the freezer, leftover from when… leftover. And there's a first aid kit in the downstairs bathroom with bandages for your hands. Just pack the kit, we'll do the bandages later. Then come back up here and get Dawn. You can get her into the car, it's in the garage."

            "Car?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "You drive now?"

            She nodded briefly, her eyes inwardly focused. "I'll get the weapons, and call Giles. They can't help us fight, but he was already doing some Key-related research. Maybe he's found something."

            "What then? Where are we headed?"

            Her voice cracked as she answered him, and for a second, she wanted to crawl back into her warm bed and pretend her calling had come to someone else. But only for a second. Looking down at Dawn, she shook her head. "I don't know how to help her. Or what to do, where to go… I don't know anything. Except… maybe I know who does." Straightening her shoulders, she looked from one demon to the other. "Let's get going. Don't fail me now, guys."

            "We won't," Clem said. He opened Dawn's closet and pulled a sweater from its hanger. "Right, Spike?"  
  


            Spike didn't answer until Buffy left the room. Then, he pulled his hands out from behind his back and watched the blood from his wounds puddle in his cupped palm. "Right," he whispered, his eyes glassy. 

*****

            "Buffy?" Clem poked his head into the living room. "Dawn's in the car. You ready?"

            Closing the lid to the weapons chest, Buffy swung her backpack over her shoulder, picked up the first aid kit from the floor, and nodded. "You can go now, Clem. Thanks for your help."

            Eyeing the first aid kit, Clem's face lightened. "You knew he was too out of it to follow your instructions?"  
  


            Her face, pale and solemn, tightened. "What's wrong with him?"

            "I dunno. Came back from Africa this way. He was worse, at first. I think he's getting better with time."

            "Time? He's been back a while?"

            "A week. I didn't tell you until… well, until he could hold a conversation." Clem glanced over his shoulder, towards the garage. "I got him into the car for you. His hands are bleeding though. He wouldn't let me bandage them."

            Buffy walked Clem to the front door and opened it for him. Looking outside into the black night, she offered him a faint smile. "I'll take care of it." 

            He saluted her and bounded down the porch steps. Shutting the door, she picked up the first aid kit and switched off the lights to the living room. She moved through the dark rooms quickly, hurrying towards the garage, towards the glowing teenager and the half-sane vampire who needed her. "I'll take care of them."


	2. Chapter Two

Undone 

Chapter Two

Spoilers: Through Grave, but no season 7 spoilers.

Disclaimer: If these characters were mine, I would treat them better and make money off them. But since they belong to Joss et al, I get to abuse them for free. 

Author's Note: Thanks go to Shannon, as always, for telling me I don't suck.

Distribution: If you want it, email me at Dragolyn@hotmail.com , otherwise, it's here, at the BSC (http://cgi.carnal-sins.net/bscentral) and on my site, Drowning or Waving (or it will be as soon as my husband gets around to it). 

Feedback is always appreciated! Be nice, feed the author. 

*****

            Buffy pulled her truck into the driveway of the motel and parked in the space to across from Ethan's room. Through the unfettered window she could see he was preparing to leave. She watched as he shrugged into his jacket, then disappeared into what seemed to be a bathroom. Sighing, she slumped back in her seat and looked at Spike. And sighed again.

            He was turned away from her, his face pressed into the cool glass of the window. Every line of his body spoke of tension, of an inner pain she couldn't even begin to guess at how to help. From the seat behind them, a green glow filled the back end of the Explorer. Dawn hadn't regained consciousness, and the light seemed to be getting brighter. Buffy didn't think that could be a good sign. _Oh what fun we have… how the hell am I going to do this? I need help.  _

            "Spike," she said, and bit her lips together as he jolted, startled. Fear came off him in waves; he looked translucent with it. She thought that if she touched him, her fingers would sink right through his skin. So she restrained herself, squeezed her hands around the steering wheel when she would have drawn him close, and tried to make due with words. "Hey, you're okay. You know that, right? You know where you are and everything?"

            "Where I am?" He rolled his head over the back of the seat, not quite meeting her eyes. "Well, yes. I'm… I'm here."

            "Here. Yeah." She checked Ethan's window again. He was still in the bathroom, which was a good thing considering her lack-of-progress at getting Spike and Dawn situated. Bringing her forehead down to rest on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes, overwhelmed. "We're at a motel, Spike. Ethan's motel."

            "Ethan." 

She could hear his voice clearing, and knew he must be regaining his focus. "I guess orientating you helps bring you back to earth, huh?"

"I've always been on earth."

Opening her eyes, she raised her head. He wasn't kidding. "It's a figure of speech. Remember? You're not… you're so different. Not just in that you're kind of nuts, but.. you seem… you're missing something. Something that's… you."

He gave her a smile so sad, her fingers trembled with the desire to touch the corners of his mouth. "I'm changed. Yeah."

"You and Dawn both. Her Key's coming out… she's losing her humanity… her life, maybe." Raising her hand, she inspected the play of the green light on her skin. It was beautiful, in the way terrible things sometimes are. In the way Spike was, the old Spike. This Spike… she wasn't sure what to make of him. He made everything different, coming back this way. "And you… what have you lost?"

"Lost?" At this, his smile grew. He tipped his head back. Buffy watched his adam's apple move up and down the line of his throat as he chuckled. "Funny you should ask…"

"Wait. We can't do this now." She started the engine, her gaze narrowed across the parking lot at Ethan, who was climbing into a lean, black sedan. "He's leaving. I knew he would."  
  


"You knew… how did you know he'd be here?"

"Ethan's a puzzle… always predictable, never reliable. He stays here every time he comes to town."   
  


"Predictable. That's a nice trait in an enemy."

"And one I'm counting on tonight." Putting the car into drive, she pulled smoothly onto the street, several lengths behind Ethan. "If I know Ethan Rayne, he'll think of what he saw- Dawn all glowey- as an opportunity to get some extra favors out of the Knights. They don't know about her… about what's happening. He'll try and play that angle, and I'm guessing he won't want to wait. Especially since… well, since Dawn can't." Swallowing hard over the lump that formed in her throat with each mention of Dawn, Buffy flipped on her turn signal, taking two consecutive lefts. "And see, I'm right. He's headed towards Breaker's Woods. That's where the Knights camped out when they were in town before."

"What's your plan?"

She slowed as Ethan pulled his car over to the shoulder of the road. He parked the car and got out. When he disappeared into the forest, Buffy maneuvered her car so that it blocked Ethan between it and the ditch that ran alongside the trees. "Kind of like last time, actually. Remember the general?"

Raising an eyebrow, Spike said, "I remember that he's dead. Very dead. Won't be much use to you."

"These guys'll have another general. Someone in charge, who can tell me what I need to know." She unlatched her seatbelt and opened the door. "I'm gonna go find him."

"Buffy." He looked down at his lap, where his hands were wrapped inside a dishtowel, collecting himself. "Umm… Well. I was going to say… something. Something along the lines of… oh. You're going to go by yourself? Just walk into their camp and steal their bloody general?"

"Not quite." She started to get out of the car, then paused. "Spike… are you okay? I mean, okay enough to watch Dawn?"

He nodded, but looked more uncertain than she'd ever seen him.

Standing, she looked into the woods. Ethan couldn't move as quickly as she could, especially in the darkness, but if he got too far ahead… "Look, I don't think it will take very much. She's not… she's not going anywhere."

Spike straightened in his seat and nodded again, semi-convincingly. "We'll do fine. Like you say, she's staying put for now. And I'm… umm, well… I think things are starting to get a bit clearer. Clearer in my head." He smiled crookedly. "Better hurry, pet. The sun'll be up soon. Won't be any good at watching the Nibblet if I'm a pile of dust."

She hesitated a moment longer. "Cover her with a blanket if she seems cold. Or… something. I don't know. I… I don't know what to do for her except…"

"Then go do it," he said. "Go on. Don't worry 'bout us."

At that, she almost laughed. "Riiight. I won't worry about you. Who cares that you're halfway around the bend to Looneyville. And Dawn, well, geez, she looks better now that she's all green and shiny. No worries here. None at all."  

Waving off his response- a look of utter exasperation- she shut the door and ran into the woods. She sensed Ethan before she saw him. Heading up the path towards him, she called his name in a muted shout. "Ethan. Wait."

He jumped at the sound of her voice and stared at her, surprised. "Ehm… no. No, I don't think so," he said, turning on his heel and starting to run.   
  


Rolling her eyes, she took off after him. "Stupid bad guy. If I was going to hurt you… **oof**!" They collided and went down. Buffy landed hard on top of Ethan, who fell on his stomach. Her elbows were trapped under her chest, forcing the breath from her lungs. She inhaled sharply and, taking quick stock of the situation, she grabbed Ethan's arms from his sides and held them together. Bringing up one leg, she pressed her knee into the middle of his back. "Now, that was rude. No more running away. I'm not here to hurt you."

"You- are- hurting- me," Ethan gasped, the side of his face grinding into the forest floor as he angled his head to meet her eyes. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, he glowered at her. "For a… little thing… you weigh a bloody ton! Get… off…me!" 

"Not a chance. You'll run."

"Oh, that's not… too likely." He spat again. "That plan didn't go well the first time, as you'll notice."

She scanned the woods, hoping the Knights were too far away to hear their voices. "You'll scream."

"For who?"  
  


"Your friends, the Knights."

"Friends, you say. Ha. They're as likely to hurt me as you are. Being here without the Key sort of throws me onto the bad guy side. Or good guy, depending on your perspective."

"If they think you're on my side, why are you going to them?"  
  


"To spy on them." Off her skeptical look, he continued. "Well, can you 

think of anything better?"

            "I can beat you up either way. You might as well tell me the truth." The sky above her was beginning to lighten. "And hurry, please. Or we can move right along to the beating part."

            "A man's got the right to make a living, you know. And to live, come to think of it. If I tell- okay, fine, **sell**, the Knights a tidbit of information on their Key, maybe they'll let me leave town with all my limbs in tact." Wiggling beneath her, he groaned as she increased the pressure of her body on his. "You have seen their swords, right? Wickedly sharp. I'm not the fighting sort."

            Digging her knee into his spine, Buffy said, "You want to leave town in one piece?"

            He stopped struggling and slumped against the ground. "Is that still an option, oh violent one?"

            "It is if you help me." Letting up just a little, she rocked back on her heels, holding him down with her hands on his shoulders. "What'll it be, Ethan? Help me, or help the Knights." 

            "That depends. What do you want me to do?"

            "Nothing moral, legal, or safe. Just your type of thing."

            His back rose and fell in a sigh. "And if I don't?"

            "I need you to help me save Dawn. If you don't, and if she dies, I will kill you." 

            "Try a different threat. You can't kill a human. We've been through this before."

            She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll do what I have to for Dawn. Anything. Including killing you. But I don't want to. Killing humans… not so much fun. Cleaner, maybe… do you know how many demons have the kind of blood that leaves a permanent stain? But still… not something I'd enjoy." Lowering her tone, she said, "Just help me, Ethan. It'll be more pleasant that way. Just say yes, and let's go. You won't have to do much, and it'll be… better than dead. Better than prison." 

            "Swear that it won't get me killed. Swear it. And swear that you'll let me leave the country when we're done." Closing his eyes, he shuddered. "No more prison."

            "I'll make sure you're safe enough. And when we're done, I'll let you leave. But you have to do what I say, when I say it. No going behind my back to make deals with the bad guys." She stood up, brushing off her hands, but Ethan didn't move. "You can stand up now."

            "Easy for you to say." He rested another second, then slowly crawled to his knees. Stretching his back, he rubbed one hand over his ribs. "Nice knee. Felt ever so pretty digging into my bones."

            "If your bones weren't so… boney, it wouldn't have been a problem." Biting her lip, she shrugged. "Okay, not my most witty insult ever, but hey, it's been a rough night. Get up. We're going to go kidnap the General."

            "Say that again," he said, standing. Brushing the dirt off of his front, he gave her a skeptical leer. "You must've done more damage to me than I thought. Sounded like you said we're going to kidnap the General. He who commands the legion of sharp, pointy swords, emphasis on the sharp."

            "That's what I said. They're camped in the big clearing, right?" At his nod, she headed back up the path, leaving him to follow her. 

            He watched her walk away for a moment. She could feel his eyes on her back, so she straightened it determinedly and quickened her pace. 

"Buffy," he called, hurrying after her.     

            When he reached her side, she gave him a cursory glance, but otherwise kept her eyes trained on the darkness. "You'll need to distract the men. I'll get the General."

            "And how do will you do that? Just go knock on his door and tell him it's time to leave?"

            "No. Look, it's still dark. Most of the camp should be asleep. You'll distract the guards, and… well, the General, he's the big important guy. Big important guys don't sleep with the lay people. I'm guessing he'll have his own tent or something, you know, the kind that says 'my balls are bigger than your balls, and therefore I am paid more money and get the corner office and all the best Krispie Kremes'."

            Ethan rolled his eyes. "You, my dear girl, should look into seeing a psychiatrist. Or a linguist, I can't decide which."

            "I talk funny. Yeah, duh. You'll catch on soon enough, everyone else has." Through the bushes, she could see several bright lights. "Look. Campfires. You go in first. Talk to the guards, say… something. I don't know. You're the professional liar, make something up. And make it good."

            "And then?" 

            The edge of the clearing was ringed with tall trees. Buffy paused and peered out from behind the thick trunk of a pine. "Give me ten minutes, then figure out how to get away. I'll meet you on the road."

            "Yes, mum," he muttered, a frown line growing between his eyebrows as he searched the rows of sleeping men for signs of wakefulness. 

            She started away, then turned back and said, "Ethan."

            "What?"  
  


            "I have a vampire in the car. If it gets light, he dies. I'd rather leave you behind to be sliced and diced by the Knights than see him go poof into a big pile of dust on my passenger seat. Capiche?"

            "Have you ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? With inspiration like that, I might just kill myself."

            "Need any help?" Buffy pointed to the camp. "Lots of volunteers here."

"No need. I'll hurry along," he muttered, stepping into the encampment.

*****

            Buffy was just closing the back door to the Explorer when Ethan came running out of the forest. She checked on the man who was lying bound and gagged in the cargo area, then faced Ethan and watched as he braced himself against the truck, his chest contracting in wheezy pants.

            "We have to go," she told him, opening the door to the driver's seat. 

            Ethan held up a hand, trying to slow his breathing. His face was mottled with redness. 

            "Asthma, huh?" Buffy asked, telling him with her offhanded tone that she couldn't care less. "Oh, well, you'll live. Spike, sit in back with Dawn, okay? I don't trust him next to her."

            "You think we can trust him at all?" Spike got out of the car and looked at Buffy across the hood. His face was gaunt and reminded Buffy that he'd need blood before long, and lots of it. 

            "Not really." Her voice softened as she looked him over in the dim pre-dawn light. _Gaunt hardly begins to describe… jeez, he's practically skeletal. _The urge to go to him, to wrap herself up in him and care for him made her suck in her breath. She swallowed it with effort, and made herself focus. "Not really at all. There's not much I'm sure of right now, but you can always trust that Ethan wants to live. He's like a cockroach that way. Or a rat."

            "How flattering," Ethan rasped, taking two quick huffs from a small inhaler and pressing his hands against his chest. "We need to leave, if you're going to keep your promise to protect my life. The Knights are coming after us. They know we took the General"

            "That's what they said, huh? Hmm. Joke's on them. But yeah, let's go. We've got… other reasons to hurry." _Spike's hands are bleeding all over the car, Dawn's getting brighter by the minute, and the sun will be up very soon. Good reasons. _ She hopped into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. Barely waiting for Spike and Ethan to close their doors, she peeled off the shoulder of the road and had to remind herself that getting stopped by a cop would be a bad, bad thing at the moment. _Oh, Mr. Policeman, what do you mean kidnapping's illegal? Well, you see, it was for a good cause. Anyways, can't talk, we're in a rush. My friend here will turn into dust at sunrise. Like magic! _

            Ethan pulled his seatbelt into place, gripping the dashboard as Buffy took a sharp turn to the right. "What do you mean, joke's on them? I saw you, at the camp. You cut the back of the General's tent open and went inside." Looking over his shoulder, Ethan blinked at the light emanating from Dawn. "Just who is your new friend back there?"  
  


            Spike met Buffy's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Not the General, I'd wager. Not unless the Knights have taken to wearing brown monk's robes and shaving their heads."

            "Nope, that's not the General." Pulling into the motel parking lot, Buffy drove around to the back of the building and parked between the motel and a dumpster. Not much camouflage, but then, she doubted any of the Knights had seen her car. "The General's in the woods, probably nursing a bad headache right now and cursing women who sneak in and steal his monks in the middle of the night."

            "You stole his monk?" Ethan shook his head. "Tsk tsk."

            "He wasn't too happy about it, so I had to put him to sleep for a while. The monk was in the tent when I got there. Lucky, too, considering it saved me from having to torture the General. Nice to finally have some luck tonight. If it holds, maybe this guy will have the answers I need." Turning off the engine, Buffy got out of the car and unlocked the hatch. "Spike, you carry Dawn in, okay?"

            He came around the side of the car with Dawn curled in his arms. Squinting, he nodded. "Hurry. Sun. And…"

            "You just hang in here another minute. Once we're inside, I'll get you something to eat, and you can rest." Opening the back door, she took a second to make sure the old monk was okay. He was hogtied, feet to hands, as well as being gagged and blinded by a handkerchief, but he seemed well enough. She pulled him out and slung him over her shoulders. "Ethan, we're going to your room."

            He cocked his head and regarded her with disbelief. "How did you know I didn't tell the Knights where I'm staying?"

  
            "That would be stupid, which you're not, usually." 

            "You know me so well. I'm not sure I like that."

"I don't care what you like." Walking behind Spike to the door, she stood back and let Ethan unlock it, then followed them inside. "Two beds. Good. Spike, put Dawn down and make her comfortable, okay? She likes two pillows, and…" Buffy let her words die as she saw that Spike was a step ahead of her. He lowered her sister onto the bed and, lifting her head gently, put one pillow underneath and then tucked another along the girl's side. "Yeah, like that. Thanks."

            Spike didn't respond. He went into the bathroom and shut the door with a thin click that seemed louder to Buffy than it should have. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and tried not to think of all the questions she had to ask him. _Where were you? What **happened** to you? And what's wrong with your hands? Who hurt you, and why, and in how many ways can I kill them for you?_ She wanted to go into the bathroom after Spike, to kick open the door and demand he give her answers. He owed her that much, and she… well, she owed him that much too. But she couldn't. There were too many things that needed doing, too many things that only the Slayer could do, that only Dawn's sister could do.

            "Buffy." Ethan tugged lightly on the monk's robe.

            Opening her eyes, she just looked at him, not moving, not speaking.

            "Are you just going to carry this fellow around? He's too old to stay tied up for long. Unless you're trying to kill him. Your sister's dying and your vampire's a bit off his nut, if you haven't noticed. Don't you have work to do?" 

If she hadn't known better, she would have called his tone considerate. Since she did know better- since she knew **him**- she figured he was only tired, or bored, or… something. But all the same, she felt her shoulders begin to relax. The guise of kindness, of real help, was better than nothing at all.

            She set the monk down on the bed and began to untie the ropes that bound his feet to his hands. "Keep an eye out. Don't let him try anything. I don't think he knows we're the good guys." 

            "We?" Ethan knelt on the end of the bed, his eyes empty in a way that made Buffy tense again. "Interesting."

            "You're… good by association. Or, under threat. Or something. Just… just shut up, okay?" She pulled the rough cloth gag from the monk's mouth and tossed it aside. 

            The monk licked his lips and blew out, stretching his cheeks. "Thank you," he said, his words accented. "I could hear you perfectly. There's nothing wrong with my ears. I know that you are the… the good guys."

            "Bully for you," Buffy said shortly, standing over him. "Do you have a name?"

Sitting up, he leaned against the headboard. "Pavel. Brother Pavel Mykytiuk."

"And do you know who I am?"

            "You are the Slayer," he said. "I know you."

            "We've met?" She shook her head. "No. I would have remembered you. Not too many monks running around Sunnydale."

            "More than you realize. We stay indoors, keep to ourselves, but we've lived here for..." He looked across the room at Dawn. Buffy watched his eyes hover on her sister's back. The mix of curiosity and awe that lightened his face made her clench her jaw. 

            She stepped to one side, blocking his view of Dawn. "Hey, Brother. She's not a circus freak. Less staring, more talking. You and your boys gave her to me, then stuck around… why? To keep an eye on things?"

            "Yes." He ran a hand over his bald head and, pressing his lips together in a thin line, shrugged his shoulders. "We had to be sure. You defeated the Beast, but there are always others. They came for it, fought us, fought the Knights… only, we do not fight so well. We are peaceful men. That is why we gave her to you. To protect." He granted her a fatherly smile. "And you've protected the Key as no one else could."

            Sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, Buffy tried to remind herself that this man wasn't her enemy, and that she should be treating him more kindly. But until he gave her what she needed, she couldn't afford to soften towards him. "Yes, I have taken good care of my sister."

            "Your sister." Emotion flickered over the old man's face, too quickly for Buffy to identify it. "Yes. Well. If that's all, I'll just phone for a ride home."

            Buffy put her hand on his arm. "Not so fast. You are going to take me to…"

            "His leader?" Ethan supplied, straight-faced.

            She ignored him and addressed Brother Pavel. "Whoever's in charge… your… monk boss, whatever. You're going to take me to him."

            "You want answers. The Key is breaking its barriers. You think we can help you, help her."

             Anger tightened Buffy's words. "The Key is killing my sister. I want to know how to help her. Can you get it out of her?"

            "I…" Brother Pavel sighed heavily. "I do not know. The Key is a turbulent entity. It is impossible to foretell what it will do."

            She grabbed his arm as a new realization sent an icy shiver down her spine. "But you knew this was going to happen. You and the other monks, you all knew the Key would come out eventually. That's why you stuck around town."

            Covering her hand with his, his face folded with sympathy. "It was… inevitable. We knew, eventually, this would happen. But not when. It could have lasted days inside her body, or decades. The Key is too strong for a mortal to withhold forever, even a mortal of the girl's bloodline."

            Buffy yanked her hand away. "Her name is Dawn. And you are going to help me save her life."

            Brother Pavel didn't answer, but his darkening face spoke for him. At the end of the bed Ethan shifted, waiting for Buffy's reaction.

            "She's going to live. Period. No other possibility." Buffy stood, so rigid she felt like she might crack in two. Even her face felt stiff, as though she wore a mask stretched invisibly tight over her skin. She could not look at Dawn- could not, not until she could see her sister instead of the Key. So she walked to the bathroom door and spoke to Brother Pavel from there. "Will you take me to the monastery by choice, or do I need to be more… convincing?"

            "I'll take you," Pavel said, "But…"

            She cut him off, unable to hear what he might say. "I'll be a few minutes. If either of you touch her…"

            Brother Pavel rose to his feet and moved to stand over Dawn's bed. "No one can hurt the Key. It protects itself."

            _The Key. Not Dawn. _"I'll be a minute," she whispered, opening the bathroom door and disappearing inside.

*****

            The bathroom lamp was off, but two line of light streamed in above and below the door, allowing her to find the switch and flip it on. Blinking, she surveyed the room, noting sink, toilet, wastebasket, and shower curtain. She pulled back the curtain, and found Spike lying in the dry bathtub, his hands tucked carefully in his lap.

            He looked at her with blank eyes and she paused, waiting for recognition to come over him. When it did, she was struck by the difference- it was as if he was literally leaving and returning to his body. "Welcome back," she whispered, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

            "Buffy." He raised one lean leg and stretched it out, wincing as he moved his hands out of the way. 

            She gestured to the outer room. "Did you hear all that?" 

            "Followed most of it." He took a breath and watched the rise and fall of his chest as if it was significant. 

            She watched too, and remembered the way it felt to press her hands against the bare skin of his ribcage, to feel the heart that did not beat there. _To remind myself that he is nothing, and that what we did was okay because there was nothing under my hands- nothing._ "Spike…" Shaking her head, she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. "We need to talk, but… I can't, not now. Dawn…"

            "I heard. S'alright. There's nothing to say between us, not really, anyways." He rested one foot on the tub's faucet and continued to breathe with careful precision. "You never wanted to talk, before. Just wanted to be in and out, that's all. And you know what? You were right. All those times. So, go on now, Slayer. Take care of the Nibblet and leave me here."

            Something inside of her began to twist; she felt each knot as it formed, and when she pressed her hand against her heart, she was half-surprised to find it beating, and half-surprised to find that she wished it wasn't. _To be nothing, wouldn't that make it all go away?_

            "Don't," Spike growled, his glare catching her breath. "I know you. Your thoughts… I can almost hear them, inside mine. Always could. That's what made us different, you and I. Had nothing to do with…" He hit one of his fists over his heart, and his eyes widened. One beat passed silently, then two, and then he cried out from the pain.

            "Your hand," Buffy said, dropped down to kneel in front of the tub. "Let me see it."

            "Buffy…" His mouth firmed into one hard line. "I don't want you to see."

            "Listen, Spike…" Reaching out slowly, she laid one hand over his, lightly. She didn't pull, didn't try to move him. She just wanted him to hear her. "You… were gone for a long time."

            "I know-" he started…

            "Shh," she interrupted, placing a fingertip to his lips. "I have to say this, and you have to listen, because last time we met, before tonight, we were in a different bathroom and you… no, I don't need to say it. Okay? I don't. You know what happened." She took away her finger and gave him the chance to challenge her, but he didn't. "That's over, though. Done. That… it was just **you**, Spike. Like with the demon eggs. I should have remembered. I knew who you were, that whole time, when we were together. A demon in a man's body, with occasional moments of grace that made me forget… forget your nature."

            He closed his eyes at that, and she had to make herself continue. "We can't be together like that again. I can't afford to let myself forget. It's not fair to either of us."

            Silence fell between them. Spike, lying motionless, did not open his eyes. Buffy couldn't make herself look at his face. Finally, she pressed her fingers into the top of his hands, lightly. "Let me fix your hands. Okay?"

            He didn't answer, but he opened his eyes and let her move his hands towards her. She unwrapped the towels from around them with slow movements, not wanting to cause him pain, but the cloth was stuck to his wounds. 

            "Just pull," he told her dully, and when she did, he sucked in his lower lip but did not cry out.

            "Spike," she whispered, dropping his left hand to study his right more closely. She spread his fingers out and traced the wounds with her index finger. 

            "Both hands are the same," he said, and to her ears, his voice sounded hollow. "The burns… well, see, I fought this bloke with hands like torches. Made the mistake of grabbing them- it was the only way to get the upperhand, so to speak."

            "And the… what is this?" Her fingers found something hard buried in the skin of his palm. 

            He cleared his throat roughly. "A cross."

            "What do you mean? That's got to hurt like crazy." She dug her fingernail into the wound, trying to pry it out. 

            Yanking his hand away from her, he said, "That's rather the point."

            Her jaw opened slackly and she gaped at him, a thought needling at the back of her brain, one so incredible, it could never, ever be true… except… _Oh my god. _"Spike… tell me the truth. Right now, tell me straight out- why did you bury a cross in your hand?"

            Something hot and shamed jumped into his eyes and then she knew, she **knew** what he was going to say, but she let him say it anyways. "These hands," he said, looking down at them. "Do you know how many lives these hands have ended? How many, do you think? Nearly two hundred years of killing, violent, terrible murdering, these hands have done. Little girls… little Dawn-like girls… and ladies, ladies like your mum, who never harmed a soul in their lives. Men, good men, like your Watcher, who cried like children and begged for their lives as I, as I…. with these hands." He leaned towards her blindly, his eyes bruised and bleeding misery. "These hands are evil, Buffy. So evil. So much pain, and blood, and… and oh god, what I did to you…" His voice breaking, he brought his hands together, clawing at them, tearing open the palms with his nails as he must have done a hundred times before in penance. "God, Buffy, what I did to you…"

            _A soul…_ The knowledge flooded her, overwhelmed her, and she rocked back on her heels, stunned. _He has a soul. _The sound of his pain-soaked voice reached her ears through the buzz of shock. Wordless sounds came from his mouth, moans and meaningless syllables that meant more than any word ever could. Emotion pushed aside all thought, and Buffy moved as she would have moved all along, had she only known. She grabbed his wrists, ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders and, lowering herself onto his lap, took him into her arms as he wept. He pushed and tugged at her, trying to make her let him go, but she wouldn't. She held him so tightly against her, the beating of her heart reverberated between their bodies, competing with the racking motion of Spike's sobs as he gave up and let her hold him. 

            "Shh, it's okay," she whispered, stroking his back, his hair, wishing she could touch more of him, wishing she could touch him inside and ease his pain. "Shh… it's…"

            "Don't say it's okay," he choked out against her shoulder. "Don't. It can never be okay. Not after all I've done."

            His words struck her like a fist and she could say nothing in response. She could only hold him, only give him the warmth of her body, for he was right. He deserved the pain. And nothing would be okay for him. Not ever again.               


	3. Chapter 3

Undone Three

*****

            "You're sure this is the right place?" Ethan asked, looking out the passenger seat window at the ostentatiously average, split-level home as Brother Pavel pulled Buffy's truck into its driveway and parked. He quirked an eyebrow up at Buffy in the rearview mirror. "Shouldn't a monastery be a touch more… monastic?"

            Sliding out of the car, Buffy eyed the basketball net hanging above the garage door and felt inclined to agree with him. This house looked identical to the rest of the block, with its neat, white trim and friendly hanging flower pots. It made her nervous, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't afford to offend Brother Pavel, not now. Not with her nerves still raw from her confrontation with Spike. There was so much to think about. Between the soul and his reappearance, the monk, Ethan… and then, of course, Dawn. Everything inside of her seemed to hum and ache simultaneously, dizzying her to everything but her purpose. She had to save Dawn.

            "It doesn't matter what the outside looks like," she said, scooping Dawn up into her arms and sliding off the back seat. As the group walked up the front steps, she cast a glance back at the car, where Spike waited behind blackened windows for them to open the door so he could run into the house. "It's what's inside that counts. I'm sure it'll be more… monkish."

            Brother Pavel unlocked the door and Buffy raised her eyebrows at the sounds that came from inside- loud laughter and computerized beeps and bells. They walked up a short flight of stairs to the living room followed by Spike, his blanket smoldering slightly. Four monks sat on the floor in a semi-circle around a television set, playing Nintendo. Two more lounged on the couch, eating something from cellophane bags and drinking soda. "Welcome to our monastery," Pavel said, but no one was paying attention to him. 

"Well," Ethan chuckled, dropping a hand on Buffy's shoulder. The corners of his mouth twitched as he pointed to the group of men. She looked where he indicated and noted the magazines piled beside the monk's feet, with covers full of cleavage. One of the monks flapped the edge of his long, loose brown robe over the stack, hiding them. "What's inside, eh? Oh yes, Buffy,  it's really so much more devout in here. Donkey Kong for the soul. And are those Cheetos I see?"

Shrugging him off, Buffy adjusted her grip on Dawn, leaning back so that her sister's head rested against her collarbone. She glanced at Spike, and found him transfixed by the flashing television screen. His mouth hung open slackly. Wondering if he was spaced out or just surprised by the scene, she took a step closer to him. He slunk away from her, pressing himself against the wall. The movement was obviously thoughtless, but Buffy had to swallow hard to keep her voice steady. "I-I'm sure this is… like, a monk holiday or something. They're probably not usually this… oh eww. Ho-Ho's." 

"Much as Jesus himself must have eaten," Ethan said. Wanting to kick him and wipe away his taunting smirk, Buffy raised her leg, but he anticipated it and moved out of her reach before she could strike. Picking up the bag of Cheetos from the table beside the couch, he popped one into his mouth and chewed with open-mouthed satisfaction. "Some monks. They must never have heard that sloth is a deadly sin. You've got a strange idea of who to see for help."

"Ethan, shut up. And you guys… you monks, get up, okay?" She gestured to the couch with one foot, blinking hard as the light emanating from Dawn stung her eyes. "I have to set her down." 

The monks stood in unison, as if they'd been waiting for a command. Their expressions were blank as they wiped the cushions clean of soda cans and stray food. Buffy tried to catch their eyes, but they avoided her gaze. Pavel picked up an empty pizza box from the floor and, closing it, addressed the other monks in a hard tone. "Tell the Abbot I've brought the Slayer. Then go downstairs."

 With Dawn secure on the couch, Buffy waited until the monks left the room. She glared at Brother Pavel. "You said I'd get answers here. Well, I don't see any answers. Just nastiness and my god, don't they teach you guys to clean up after yourselves? This place is worse than a frat house."

Brother Pavel held up a finger. "Be patient, please. The Abbot will have your answers."         

"And where is he? Out back on the jungle gym? Or maybe playing with GI Joes?" Slipping one hand into the pocket of her jacket, she fingered the steel crosses she'd removed from Spike's palm. She glanced over at him, her mouth tightening. He appeared anachronistic, not to mention ridiculously pale and thin, as he leaned against a poster of Michael Jordan scoring a slam dunk. The comparison made her throat constrict. She'd forgotten to get him food. _No, blood,_ she thought. _Call it what it is. No more denial, no more hiding from reality. Vampires need blood. Spike needs blood. And Dawn needs… _She scrubbed her hands over her face. _God only knows what Dawn needs._

"Look, Brother Pavel," she said, "I… I don't have time to be polite, okay? Things are… things are bad. We need to hurry."

"His holiness will be with you as soon as possible, I'm sure." Rubbing his bald head, Brother Pavel squinted over his shoulder, down the dark hallway. 

Buffy grabbed his arm and gave him a rough shake. "Hey. Not as soon as possible. You go get him **now**." She felt a hand on her upper back and released the monk. Turning to Ethan, she cocked her head. "What?"

He moved a step back, beckoning her away from Brother Pavel, his expression serious. "If you're wanting this man's help, don't you think the make-nice approach would be a better tactic?"

"Huh?" Her forehead creased as she looked at him with suspicion. "You're telling me to be nice? And you're helping me? What, you're trying to be useful? Did you get hit over the head with a book called 'how to be a good guy in two days or less'?"

"Ooh, such sarcasm, such wit." His mouth tightened. "I _am_ trying to help you. Someone must. You don't seem too brilliant at helping yourself."

"Not you. You don't… just… don't." She started to move back to Pavel, but Ethan caught her arm. "Don't touch me!"

Releasing her, Ethan raised his hands in the air. "Fine. I won't help you. But someone has got to help him." He stepped aside and Buffy saw that Spike was lying on the floor beside the couch, half-hidden in the green light glowing from Dawn.

"Spike?" She knelt beside him and felt for the pulse on his neck before remembering that, of course, there wouldn't be one. Straightening his collar to hide her blunder, she looked up at Ethan and at Brother Pavel, who was watching their interactions with impassive nonchalance. "He needs to eat. I… I meant to feed him back at the motel, but I… well, we were in a rush. To help Dawn. And I had to tell him to wait."

Sighing loudly, Ethan began rolling up one of the sleeves of his shirt. 

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, even as the answer loomed obvious and confounding in her mind. "You're going to feed him? Someone really did forget to tell you you're the bad guy."

Sitting on the carpet, Ethan lifted Spike's head and rested it on his knees. "I prefer the term villain over bad guy. It carries a note of refinement. Hand me that pocket knife, the one on top of the television."

Buffy tossed it to him. "I don't get it. You're being too nice. It's making me nervous."

 "It's simple, really. The sooner we're through here, the sooner I'm on an airplane out of this bloody country, away from you…" He jerked the knife across his wrist, and continued through gritted teeth… "away from your pet vampire, away from your darling Key…" Tilting Spike's head back, he squeezed the sides of the cut until blood ran into Spike's open mouth… "and most importantly, farther away from the Initiative and their prisons than I'll ever be while you're sitting around town dickering with Brother Stick-up-his-Arse. If saving my own skin means feeding the vampire so he won't slow us down then, by all means, I'll feed him."

            "Fine." As soon as she saw Spike latch on to Ethan's wrist, Buffy turned her back on them. "Brother Pavel, go get the Abbot."

            A tic developed on Brother Pavel's jaw as he watched Spike eat. "He'll be with you as soon as he can."

            "No, that's not good enough!" She knew losing her temper wasn't the smart way to go about this, but she didn't care. _Everything I care about is messed up… everyone I care about is sick or dying…"I can't wait! More importantly, **she** can't wait! Can't you see my sister is dying! Whatever spell you did to create Dawn is coming undone. You have to redo it. You have to. It's killing her!"_

            Brother Pavel said nothing. Silence layered the air, heavy and unnerving. All Buffy could hear was the soft sucking sounds coming from Spike's mouth and her own rapid breathing. 

Then, suddenly, she heard a rhythmic thudding coming towards them from the hallway. A man appeared, leaning heavily on a twisted, wooden cane. His small frame was swallowed by a monk's robe as brown as his skin. He came towards her without looking at any of the others, though Brother Pavel bowed to him. "You're wrong about the Key, my child. My poor, confused little girl."

Stiffening, Buffy thrust a finger towards Dawn. "Look at her! How am I wrong?"

"The assumption you've made is natural enough, with what you think you know about the Key. However, you're more wrong than you could ever understand." He nodded at Brother Pavel, who left the room obediently. "Sit down, child. I have something to tell you."

Buffy did not sit. Staring at the Abbot's solemn face, she said slowly, "If I'm wrong, then Dawn's not dying?"

"She's not dying. And she's not your sister."

"I've been through this before with my friends. She **is** my sister. I don't care if the memories are fake or not!"

"She's not your sister, girl. And will you sit-"

"I'm standing. I don't trust you. And Dawn is my sister. It doesn't matter how many times you say…"

The monk shook his head, interrupting her. "She's not your sister, no matter what you feel. The love you have for her, the connection you share comes from a blood bond, it's true. She's your daughter."

Buffy took a step back, her brow furrowing. "Oh. Oh. Umm… **Oh.** How-"

The Abbot put his hand lightly on Buffy's shoulder, looking into her eyes. "She's your daughter, Slayer. And she's not dying. She's already dead."

"My, my," Ethan murmured, pulling his wrist back from Spike's face. He tilted his head towards Buffy.

Buffy sank down onto the coffee table, grappling for its edges with her hands and clinging to them. "Talk," she said thickly.

"We didn't create her. You did. We merely pulled her from the future and planted the Key inside her body."

            Wiping a shaking hand over her mouth, Buffy nodded numbly. "More talking. Why… just why?"

"The daughter of the Slayer is the only human strong enough to hold the Key within her body for any length of time. Even the Slayer hasn't the right sort of strength. We also needed someone new to this earth. The Key… well, the magic required is very particular."

"She's my daughter." Slowly, Buffy raised her face and met the Abbot's eyes. "Who is her father?"

"We don't know that. I rather thought you would." The Abbot pointed at Spike, who was half-sitting, half-lying against the base of the couch. "Isn't he your… what is the word… boy friend?"

Buffy licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. _Nerves,_ she thought. _And no wonder._ "No. Spike and I are… it's complicated. We're complicated. But we're… no. It's not like that. And even if it was, he's a vampire. He's… well, he's dead. And dead is pretty much dead when it comes to sperm."

"Oh. Then is…" The Abbot's eyes flickered to Ethan with dry speculation.

Reddening, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Eww. No. Don't even go there." On the couch beside her, Dawn was curled in a ball, her knees against her chest. Buffy stroked a hand over the girl's hair, struggling to keep her emotions under control. "My daughter. Okay. I can accept that. But… she's not dead. I mean, look at her! She's right here."

"When was the last time she breathed, Slayer? It's been some time, hasn't it. And her heartbeat? We know you've noticed it. We've been tracking you both."

"It's been a long time," Buffy said, smoothing down the hair that fell across Dawn's forehead. "But still, she can't be dead. Just a little while ago, she was talking and moving around. We were okay, she and I. We were doing just fine. You have to be wrong. She's still alive."

The Abbot's voice fell low. "Time is not perfect. It works in waves. Dawn's here, but she's actually never been born. She will keep fading until she doesn't exist. What you see here is no more than the smoke once a fire's out." 

From the floor, Ethan spoke up. "The Key did this to her?"

"No. The Key is coming out because she's dead. But it hasn't harmed her. The only harm came from a change in the timeline. Dawn was never born, therefore, she is vanishing. You see, the translucency of her skin beneath the Key's glow?"

_No, I don't see any translucency,_ Buffy thought, touching Dawn's cheekbone. _I just see… Dawn. _"She was never born… Why?" 

"We're not sure. It was something that happened in your life, child. Somewhere, at some time, you came to the crossroads and chose the wrong path. You took the path that led away from your predestined future. The path that ensured your daughter- Dawn- could never be born."

"Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?" Ethan shook Spike's shoulder until the vampire's eyes fluttered open. "Wake up, mate. You'll have to help us translate. None of us speak the language of insanity."

The Abbot gave Ethan a tolerant half-smile. "You see, every time someone makes a choice, the world shifts ever so slightly for it. These shifts lead the person to the place that she is fated to reach. Only, in Buffy's case, something went wrong. Somehow, the wrong path was taken. And the one she did take led her to a life that did not include a daughter named Dawn."

"When?" Buffy pulled away from Dawn with reluctance. "What choice was it, and when did I make it?" 

"We don't know, not precisely. Dawn could have been fading for years with no symptoms. It won't be easy to track down the crossroads in question. But if you can go back and find this moment, you can get back onto the path that led you to conceive Dawn."  

Buffy buried her head in her hands, completely overwhelmed. "Okay," she said through her fingers. Looking up, she tried to sound strong. In control. Adult. She had to try, she had to stay focused. "So. We have to get Dawn back. How do we get her back? How do I find the… the crossroads, whatever? How do I change the past?

"We- the Monastery- have a seer. A demon who works on the side of good, who will help you. I'll have Brother Pavel take you to it now, if you like."

 Glancing down at Dawn, Buffy hesitated. "I don't want to leave her alone." 

"You have nothing more to fear, child. The Key protects itself. And the girl is…" The Abbot dropped his eyes. "Well. It can't get any worse, now can it?"

A sudden retching noise rose from Spike. Buffy turned to him just in time to catch his shoulders as he heaved against her. Blood poured from his mouth, a malodorous red flux that coated them both.

"Oh… yuck…" Buffy said, looking down at her clothes. She stood, pulling Spike up with her. He reeled sickly against her side. "Ethan, shut up."

"I wasn't even laughing," Ethan said in a wounded tone laced with amusement. "And I wouldn't. That's my blood you're wearing."

            "Brother Pavel!" The Abbot called, holding his sleeve to his nose. The monk appeared instantly. "Take the Slayer and the vampire into the master bedroom and find them something to wear, please."

            Ethan waggled his fingers at them as they walked towards the hallway. "I'll just stay here. All alone. With your daughter."

            "I'm really going to kill him someday," Buffy said as she helped Spike down the hall after Brother Pavel. "And look, a head start. I'm already covered in his blood."

            "Sorry," Spike said. He sounded so sincere and so tired that Buffy couldn't answer him.

            The bedroom looked like the rest of the house: typical, suburban. A queen-size bed with a navy blue comforter, mirrored closet doors, and a small, square bathroom hooked against the back corner. Pulling two monks robes out of a long, wooden dresser, Brother Pavel set them on the bed and left. When the door closed with a snap, Buffy jumped, then steadied herself. "Sorry. I'm kind of tense. And I'm talking like an idiot. That must be the nerves, right? 'Gee, your sister's your daughter, and your daughter is dead', and look at me, I'm just babbling and…" She bit her lip, embarrassed. 

            "Do you… umm… do you want the first shower?" Spike looked at her likeness in the closet mirror rather than into her eyes. He fidgeted with the bandages on his hands, but seemed stronger. 

            "No. I'll rinse off in the sink to save time. Just… turn your back." She turned hers and lifted her hands to the top button of her blouse, only to see Spike's reflection as he disappeared into the bathroom. The door swung behind him, but caught on a section of raised rug and stayed ajar. Sighing, Buffy changed quickly. She sat on the bed facing the bathroom, waiting for him, and noticed that he hadn't turned on the shower yet. "Spike?" she called, rising. "Are you okay in there?"

            He didn't answer, so she nudged the door open a bit. Inside, Spike stood with his back to her, facing the sink, removing the bandages from his hands. At first, she thought he wore a shirt. A white shirt, with red patterns on it. Then, looking closer, she felt her stomach churn. _That's…not a shirt. That's his skin._

Red ridges curved over his shoulder blades, wild spirals that ran the length of his back. Above the rise of his buttocks, four circular rings of words entwined. Squinting, Buffy could just make out a few of them. _Beneath me. Effulgent. Evil. Drusilla, Angelus, and- oh god- Dawn. Nibblet. Slayer._

A gasp escaped from her lips before she could stop it, and when Spike's back stiffened, she knew he was aware of her scrutiny. He turned around slowly, revealing more of the damage. Chinese characters lined the edges of his abdomen, growing upwards toward a single word etched above his heart. One word, in English. She gasped again, but it sounded more like a sob. _Buffy. Oh god. My name._

"I… I… the door… it was open, and I…" She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop shivering. "Spike… what did you do?"

"Wasn't just me. I had help. A sorcerer bloke back in Africa… he took care of me, at first. Till I was well enough to be on my own. He… specializes in this sort of thing."  
  


"What sort of thing? What do you call this?" A scraping sound startled her; looking down, she saw it was coming from her hand, from the scratching of her fingernails as she gripped the wooden doorway. She tried to relax her grasp, but found she couldn't do anything remotely like relaxing. _My name. He carved my name into his chest. _ "What is it this guy, this specialist, was so special at helping you with? Ripping yourself into p-pieces?"

"He's… it wasn't that specific. It was… He puts what's inside… outside." Spike frowned, his fingers scrambled over his chest. When he found the ridge of Buffy's name, he pressed his palm against his chest, covering the word. "I didn't know it'd be this…"

"This what? Extreme?" She felt her face flush as he picked up the robe and dropped it over his head. The white material chafed over the scars and Spike winced, but Buffy released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, relieved to be released from the sight. _My name was inside of him. And now, it's over his heart. _ "All that… those words… they were inside of you?"

Spike touched the cloth that hid the scar of her name. "Must've been."

"And you… you just let him do this to you?" She stepped inside the room, advancing on him slowly. "You didn't fight him?"

"I didn't **let** him do this." He moved backwards away from her until he hit the farthest wall. Crossing his arms protectively over his chest, he ducked his head. "I asked him to. He was a friend, of sorts, so he agreed. I… I didn't know, but… it's fine." 

"I don't understand." She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. "God, I can't… I can't look at you. I can't stand to see…"

With great calmness, Spike said, "It's alright, Buffy. You won't have to look at me much longer. Get going to that seer. I'll be gone by the time you and the Nibblet are safe home again."

"G-gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I never meant to stay in town. I only came to…" He shrugged once, roughly, as if the words put a physical heaviness on him. "To apologize to you and Dawn. But now that I'm here, I realize that… well, that there are things too horrific for apologies to carry any weight." Bending down, he collected his soiled clothes. "When I set out to come back here, I thought… I thought it was for you. The apology and whatnot. Just to let you know that I didn't leave to take up being a Big Bad again. To let you know I didn't leave because… well… you did nothing wrong. You get that? Nothing. It was all… just me. Like you said. The demon eggs… the… what I… that night… what I did… it was all just… me."

"Spike," Buffy said softly, but he shook his head and cut off her words.

"Let me finish while I still can. It's so hard to focus, Buffy. So hard to just… talk. To just… be." He met her eyes, but he wasn't looking at her. She wondered if he saw her at all, if he even remembered she was there, that he was actually speaking to her and not to himself. "All the time I was in Africa, all I could think about was… getting back here. Seeing you again. I thought… I thought it would be okay, between us, if I came back. Showed you my shiny new soul, pranced around the town like a new man, like these hands never did… what they did. I thought that all the way to America. Then I almost turned right back around and jumped into the Atlantic. What a fool… to think, even for a minute, for a second, that we could ever… that you could… ever..."

"Spike," she said again. Turning her face away from him, she pressed her cheek against the wall. It felt solid and cool beneath the hot skin of her cheek. "Can you stop, for just a minute…"

He went on as if she hadn't spoken, the words falling out of him faster than she could comprehend. "But then, then I did it. I came back. I stood outside your house one night, watching you through the windows. Hearing your laugh, and Dawn's. Girlish giggles, happy, you were both… you were happy. That's when I realized that I wasn't here for you. I came for me. I missed you. And I… I wanted you to see what I did. As if it mattered. As if it undid all the wrong, all the evilness. I came to make amends for things that can never be… never be amended."

"Spike…"

Pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he groaned, a long, tormented sound. "I'm so sorry, Buffy." His hands fell to his shoulders, then he clasped them together. Blood dripped onto the floor; he was digging his fingers under the skin of his palms. "I'm so sorry, so sorry. I'm so… so sorry, so sorry. Buffy. So sorry. I'm so… I'm sorry."

            "Stop it," she whispered, but he didn't listen, he just kept talking. Whatever he said, she didn't hear. Pushing off from the wall, she grabbed his shoulders. "Stop it! Spike! Just stop!"

"Why should I!" he yelled back, throwing off her hands. Blood flicked off his palms, spattering the wall behind them. "It's not enough! It can never… never be enough."

"You're right!" The words came out of her so harshly, they seemed to slap him in the face. He flinched and fell quiet. "You're right, okay? Apologies don't mean crap. And you can never undo what you've done. But right now… right now, I don't care. Dawn is out there, and she needs us. I can't do this alone. You love her enough that her name is cut into your skin. Can't you turn off Self-Pity 101 long enough to save her life?"

A shudder ripped through him, slumping his shoulders. "You don't understand."

She placed her hands on his arms, gently. "You know better than that. After what I went through… coming back to life… it's hard. You're the only one who knows how hard it was for me. Sure, I didn't have centuries of slaughter to deal with, but… well, okay, maybe that's a big 'but'…"

"Buffy." He squared his shoulders and raised his head, the change so sudden that she fell back in surprise. "Let's go to the seer and get Dawn back. Then I'll leave town, and you won't have to consider the 'buts' of me ever again." Brushing past her, he left the room.

She stared after him, then sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands and rocking back and forth. Overwhelming feelings blackened her vision. Too confused even for thought, she stayed curled around her knees for a long time. Finally, she felt a presence in the room. "What do you want?" she muttered without moving.

Ethan's voice was muted. "I was listening at the door. I heard everything," he said without embarrassment. "Do you need a few minutes to yourself? I can tell the monks to bugger off for a while longer."

"No, I'm fine." But she made no move to rise.

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was casual. "You know, Buffy, when I was first in prison, I thought that nothing would change. After all, the system was a part of the world, so how different could it possibly be? That first night, when the lights went out and the screaming started… and other things… well. I learned the rules of an entirely new world. Just enough to survive. And when I was free again, when it came time to forget them…" At his pause, she raised her head to look at him. He was facing away from her, looking out the small, open window. "Things stick with you, like it or not. But you go on. And your vampire will learn this."

"He's not my vampire," she said. Standing, she straightened the robe to fall fluidly around her. "He doesn't belong to anyone."

With more genuineness than she'd ever known him capable of, Ethan smiled at her. "Buffy," he said, chastising her. "Do you really believe that? And do you really think he does?"  
  


"Why are you even in here?" she retorted, and watched as Ethan's faced fell into its familiar, mocking mask. Surprised by the regret she felt at the sight, she softened her voice. "Where's Spike? And Dawn?"

"They're ready to go. Are you?"

"No," she said, but headed out of the room.

"We're off to see the Wizard then?" He winked at her.

"Don't wink. It's creepy." She shoved him out the door in front of her. To his back, she said, "But yeh. The Wizard. 'Cause this has got to be Oz."


	4. Chapter Four

Undone Four

            "He's still not answering." Buffy stabbed the 'off' button of the phone with her finger and dialed Giles' phone number again. "Not much of a shocker. He's been real busy with…" Grimacing, she recalled the last conversation she'd had with her Watcher. _Can't talk now, Buffy. I'm very sorry, but it this a critical time for Willow. She's experiencing a fleeting moment of lucidity, but it could so easily go either way._

            "What are you doing?" Ethan asked, sitting on a stool across the kitchen from where she stood. The room was dark, the curtains closed tightly in deference to Spike. She couldn't see the expression on his face. "You're not going to leave him a message. Even you would not be that unthinking."

            "Doesn't look like I have a choice." She twisted the phone cord around her index finger, listening to the final ring and the sound of Giles' voicemail message. "We can't go without telling someone. He's got to know where we're going… it could be dangerous. Someone needs to know where we are in case we don't come back."

            "And what, exactly, do you plan to say? 'Hello there Giles. Off to deal with a dangerous, unknown entity, but not to worry, your old, chaos-loving mate Ethan's here at my side. By the by, Dawn is my daughter and, oh yes, she's dead. Ta ta.' Go right ahead, tell him that. You'll give him a stroke."

            "I can't go without…" She turned away from him to leave her message. "Hi, Giles, it's umm, it's me. Buffy. Look, things are happening here… big things… I've got Ethan and Spike with me. Your Ethan. He's out of prison. And Spike is…" Lifting her gaze, she looked to where the vampire was crouched in a shadowed corner, his arms wrapped around his knees. "Spike's here too, sorta, and we're in trouble. Dawn's… kinda dead, but not dead, I mean, she's here, but she's dead too…" Switching hands on the receiver, she gestured for Ethan to go check on Dawn. "But don't worry. I'm going to get her back. I wanted to give you a heads-up, that we're going… Spike, Ethan, and I, not Dawn… we're going to meet a seer demon who works with the monks. You know, Dawn's monks? So, I'll call you after we're back. And… um… if any Knights of Byzantium happen to show up at your place, don't let them in. I stole their monk, and they're kinda pissed at me. Anyways, talk to you soon. Hi to Will and Xander. Bye now."

            Ethan, who hadn't moved, rolled his eyes as Buffy slammed down the phone and picked it back up again. "That was even more entertaining than I'd imagined. The Chosen One, eh? Good thing that role doesn't require much speaking." 

            Forcing herself to be patient with him, she dialed Giles one last time, hoping that he'd hear the phone and pick up. "Nope, it doesn't," she said idly. _Ring, ring, ring… Giles, where are you!_ "Vamps are more the 'grr, arg' type. Except for some who like to banter. And then there's the traditional 'Slayer! Prepare to die!' tact, but that never goes well for them." She hung up the phone with a final slam. "Guess my message will have to do. Anyways… we were talking about… something…" Shaking her head, she groaned. _I can't even hold two thoughts together. How am I supposed to save Dawn if I can't think?_ "I'm losing my mind."

            "Well, you're in good company then. Variety amongst vampires was the topic. You covered the 'grr, arg' type, and the banter type, but at the moment, you should probably be more concerned with the sort of vampire that prefers to cower in a corner. Good company, as I said." Ethan stood and stretched his arms above his head, nonchalant. "I'll leave him to you and find Brother Pavel. We're ready to go now, aren't we? Unless you'd like to chatter on the phone all day."

"No," Buffy murmured, her attention shifting to the low moaning sounds coming from Spike's corner. He was still hunched over, his face buried in his arms. "We're almost ready. You go tell Brother Pavel it's time while I get Spike up." 

Ethan cast Spike a dubious glance. "How exactly do you plan on moving him? He looks like he's enjoying his cozy linoleum corner much more than being out here with you."

"He doesn't get a choice. He's got to say goodbye to Dawn. If something goes wrong with the seer…" She shrugged. "I don't want him to regret not seeing her one last time, if the worst happens. He's dealing with too many regrets as it is."

"Good-bye, you say? You're not taking her along?"

"No. She'll wait here. The Key protects itself, as the monks said. I'm not worried about her staying behind."

"It's not like they can kill her." His lips twisted into a smile that wilted under her glare. "I'll go now."

"That'd be in the best interest of your skin. I'm just itching to beat on someone, and you're pissing me off with the whole 'opening of your mouth' thing."  

He held up his hands in a show of defenselessness. "Going now."

As soon as he was gone, she crossed the room to Spike and stood above him. He didn't look up, only started to rock with his whole body as he sensed her moving towards him. The back and forth movement made a rhythmic creaking sound on the linoleum floor beneath him. That noise, combined with his soft moans, made her move away again, towards the door. _Way to go, Buff, _she thought grimly. _Let's freak him out even more. Like he's not crazy enough all on his own._

"Spike," she called from across the room, but he made no sign of hearing her. "Hey. We have to go soon. Ethan went to find Brother Pavel. Can you hear me? Spike?"

He couldn't hear her, she decided finally, gloom falling over her so heavily, her shoulders seemed to ache with the weight. _Not too much of a shocker, really. I should've expected this would happen. How long could he be coherent and **here **just on the power of will alone? He warned me that it couldn't last. _Sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, she let out a long, shaky breath and tried not to remember who he had been before he'd gone and torn up his mind with guilt and regret. _He's still in there, somewhere. _

As if hearing her, Spike raised his head. "Buffy, is it time to go yet?"" His voice was thin and weak. She stood and turned on one of the dimmest kitchen lights to see him better. Flinching, he threw his body back into the shadows. 

She turned the lights back off quickly, her hands quaking on the switch. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were that… sensitive to the light. Are you okay? I mean, obviously you're not okay. But are you… here?"

"Here?" The word seemed to confuse him. He nodded finally, his long arms wrapped tightly around his calves. "Here. I'm here. But where… where is the Nibblet?"

            "Shh… Dawn's fine. We're going to go see her right now." She came near him slowly, letting him adjust to her as she drew near. "You know we have to leave. You remember that much?"

            At that, he picked his head up, his features sharpening. "We have to go. To save Dawn. Yeah, I remember that. But…" Dropping his head down, he looked away from her. "Not much else. Some. But not much. It's like… I think of something, but it just… just runs away from me."

            "It's okay. I'll help you as much as I can." She held her hand out to him, urging him to take it with a beseeching look. "Get up. We need to go see Dawn."

            He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Thanks, pet, but I can stand on my own."

            Releasing his hand, she smiled. "Oh. Good." 

            "It's the thinking part that's the real trouble."

            Her smile fell. "Oh. Not so good. But Spike, it'll be okay. Like I said, I'll help you. But first, let's go say goodbye to Dawn before Brother Pavel and Ethan are breathing down our necks. I think Ethan's actually in more of a rush to get to the seer than I am." 

She stepped back to give him room to stand and together they moved out into the living room. Before he could recoil back into the darkness of the kitchen, she quickly flipped off the light switches. "Here," she said, hoping her voice sounded soothing. "It's all dark in here now, except for Dawn."

"The Key's light, that's okay." He moved to sit beside Dawn on the couch, his face taking on a reflective green hue. "It's calming. It's… her. The Nibblet."

"You think Dawn is calming? Hah. You should see her at that time of the month. She's not exactly made of light and peacefulness then." Perching beside him, she leaned back against the couch cushions. "How are you holding up with all this?"

"Which part?" He patted her hand before she could respond. "No, I get it. The 'Dawn's your dead daughter' part of today's melodrama. You're wanting to know how that sits with me?" 

"That's what I asked." Fingering the hem of Dawn's sock, she couldn't meet his eyes. "She's your friend. The only one of us who treated you like a person. And now, not only is she… well, not alive, technically… but she's my daughter. I know just how many wiggins that gives me. Kinda wondered if you had any… reaction." 

"Seeing as how all my swimmers are over a century dead, I'm not too worried 'bout making child support payments." 

She raised her eyes and found him focused on Dawn's face. The look he wore, a strange mixture of tenderness and frustration, made her teary. "Hey," she said, trying to make him look at her. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

With a soft touch of his finger, he brushed a lock of Dawn's long hair off her forehead. "What do you expect from me? She's the Little Bit. Nothing can change that. 'Course I'm not thrilled that she's dead, temporary situation or not. But we're going to get her back."

"Of course we are," Buffy blurted out, her mouth tensing into a straight line.

He tilted his head towards her. "You wouldn't even consider any other possible ending to this. That's what I'd expect from you, Buffy. You've always believed that nothing can stop you from moving mountains for those you love. Hell, you'd probably move heaven itself to bring her back."

"So? You think that's… what? Naïve of me? You don't think I can do it?"  
  


"Just the opposite. I believe you will save her, absolutely." He rubbed his jaw ruefully. "After what I've done for love… the impossible, you might say… how could I ever doubt you?"

Reaching out with a wavering hand, Buffy touched his chest. "You really are still in there. I was starting to wonder."

He stood, the movement so abrupt that it took her a moment to realize he'd moved away. "Buffy, this doesn't change… well… anything. Don't think I'm back. I'm not the… the creature you knew."

She opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it when she heard footsteps coming up the hallway towards them. "We can talk about this later. Brother Pavel's here," she said, nodding to the monk as he walked in with Ethan. "It's time to go, Spike."

            ****

Brother Pavel returned her nod. "You are ready, aren't you Slayer? We can't wait much longer. The monks have made the necessary preparations." He flipped on all of the light switches, flooding the room with brightness. 

Spike retreated into the kitchen immediately, a garbled shout trailing in his wake. Jumping to her feet, Buffy followed him. He went back to his corner and sat, covering his face with his hands. "No, no," he whispered. "Not yet. I've things, things to do in here…. But I can't, I can't, it's too light, far too bright…" His hands went to his head and buried under his hair to rip at his scalp until a thin trickle of blood ran down his forehead.

"What is wrong with him?" Brother Pavel asked as he and Ethan entered to room. He turned on the lights and surveyed the scene. "He is out of his head. How is he going to be of any help to you?"

"Turn those lights off!" Buffy hissed. She crouched in front of Spike, blocking the worst of the glare from his face. "Ethan! Turn them off! Now!"

Ethan obeyed and as the room fell into darkness, Spike slowly relaxed. He leaned against the wall, his hands flat over his face. "I'm… I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Buffy. Slayer. We can… we can go now. If we have to. I can be fine, if I have to. Fine. Just fine."

"We really do need to go," Buffy said, resting a cautious hand on his shoulder. The brown monk's robe he wore felt scratchy under her palm, but the muscle beneath it was firm and solid, reassuring her. "I'll walk beside you, okay? Ethan, you go ahead with Brother Pavel. We'll follow."

She put her hands under Spike's elbows, helping him to stand, then noticed his blanket from the floor and draped it over his shoulders. "You can do this. We're only going out to the cabana. Just a few steps out the door, a few more across the yard, and then it'll be dark again." 

"Do watch out for the swimming pool," Ethan said, opening the back door and motioning Brother Pavel out ahead of him. "I doubt we'd be able to fish you out soon enough to avoid ash soup."

"Just ignore him," Buffy said quietly in Spike's ear. She took her hands off his arms but stayed close to his side. "Come on. It isn't far."

"I just… I'm fine… just need to get my mind together… my thoughts…" He trailed off as Buffy stepped outside and, tossing the blanket over his head, he followed her.

Half-helping, half-pulling Spike around the pool, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when the cabana doors closed behind them. "See, what'd I tell you? Just a few steps and look, it's all nice and dark and shadowy again."

Spike didn't answer her. Flinging off the blanket, he let it land in a heap behind them and hurried to crouch in the corner nearest to where Buffy stood. 

"Yeah," she said, looking helplessly at Ethan and Brother Pavel. "You just… hang out there. That's okay. Like I said, nice and dark."

"Of course, your oh-so-nice darkness does make it difficult to spot this seer bloke." Ethan raised his eyebrows at the monk, who was shifting nervously closer and closer to the exit. "Are you planning on taking us to it and making introductions? Or is this a 'help ourselves' sort of deal."

            Brother Pavel twitched at Ethan's tone. "You should watch your words, sorcerer. The last time I went near the seer, it was to retrieve a dead body."

            "I thought you said this demon works for you. That it's on the good side of things," Buffy said. 

            "The side of good is subjective. God only knows what the seer considers to be just. It is a useful demon, but still a demon. The monk who was killed suffered for what the seer considered an unpunished and unpardonable wrong done in the past."

            Nervously shifting from one foot to the other, Buffy said, "That's not exactly reassuring. I've done some wrongs of my own. If I come out of here dead, then Dawn's lost too."

            "There is some risk, I admit, but I'm sure nothing will happen to you. After the first unfortunate incident, we learned how to counter its magic. We do not have it controlled entirely but it is, for lack of a better word, leashed under our power. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be going. The seer makes me… uneasy."   

            "Hmph." Buffy took a step towards Brother Pavel, her eyes flashing in the darkness. "Great. That's just wonderful. But guess what? I don't care. Show us where the seer is before you make your big, chicken-ey runaway."

            With a shaking finger, Brother Pavel pointed to a small tree growing out of the concrete floor at the far end of the room. As he moved towards the exit, he spoke over his shoulder. "There. Seer, meet Slayer. Slayer, meet the seer." The words were punctuated by the sound of the door slamming shut behind him.

            "That's the seer?" Ethan crept towards the tree. Bending close to examine its thin, leafless branches, he ran a finger down its trunk gingerly . "Not much of a tree. It's even skinnier than you are, Buffy. But I'll say this for you, at least you're not dripping with… what is this, anyway?" He pulled his hand back and rubbed his fingers together, making a face. "Sticky. And it burns a bit." Straightening, he turned to face Buffy. "Do you think it---"

            Suddenly, the tree began to move. "Ethan!" Buffy shouted and rushed forward as the tree's two main limbs rose up above Ethan's head, then lowered and slammed into his shoulders, impaling him. "Oh god." She grabbed for him, put her hands above where the ends of the limbs jabbed out of his shirt, but before she could think of what to do, the limbs jerked upwards, pulling Ethan with them. 

            He didn't make a sound, only shot straight up onto his toes, his back extending and arching unnaturally until he fell against the tree. It thrust him against its trunk, pinning him there, its limbs still inside firmly his body.

            Buffy reached over Ethan's shoulders and took hold of the limbs at the point where they entered his back. "Hang on," she muttered, tugging on them, trying not to look at Ethan's face, inches from her own. He appeared to be unconscious, but his eyes were open wide and staring so blankly, she knew something beyond her understanding was taking place. Her hands slipped on the sap coating the tree limbs. _The sap or Ethan's blood. But let's not think about that right now. Bigger fish to fry… and… _"Oww!" she yelped, releasing the tree and falling back onto the ground. She brushed her hands off against the cement, trying to wipe the sap from them, to stop the burning. 

            "Here," Spike said. "Let me…" Tucking his blanket around his shoulders, he ran out of the cabana, returning seconds later. "Water. From the… the pool," he said, holding out the edge of his blanket towards her. "To wash your… your…"

            "Thanks." She took it from him and rubbing the stickiness from her hands, wincing. "Hurts like a sunburn. I guess it's the tree's natural defense. Acid sap. Nice, huh? Giles would have a field day with this demon. Wonder what it is, though. And how we're going to get Ethan free if I can't touch it."

            Ethan shook his head, the movement so sudden that Spike and Buffy jumped back. His eyes went wide, but the rest of his face remained expressionless. "Stop. Listen."

            Buffy edged her body in front of Spike's but made no other move towards the tree and Ethan. "Ethan, what are you… oh. Wait a minute. I get it. You're not Ethan."

            "Ethan is the host. He is my mouth, as I cannot speak without borrowing a human form." 

            Shaking her head, Buffy said, "No way. Sorry, but no. You can't do that. Not without his permission."

            "I do not understand. You dislike this one and he has no true part in your mission, no role to play in your reasons for coming to me. He was the appropriate body to use."

            "You're right, but this has nothing to do with how I feel about him. He's a human being. You can't just take over his body without his permission." 

            "Yeah," Spike said, moving forward to stare closely into Ethan's flat eyes. "He's human. Human being, that makes the difference. Now demons like me, that's another story. It has to use someone. We have to communicate somehow."

            "You are a vampire," the seer said. "Vampires are creatures of death. I am a creature of life. Ethan must be the host; I cannot use you."

            "Well. Haven't heard that for a while." Spike turned to Buffy. "Except from you. When you meant it and when you didn't… and when you meant it and used me anyways… not much of a difference, really. Apart from the ache."

            "I… I… Spike, we can't talk about that now. Look, seer, whatever you have to use, demon or human, I don't care. We need to communicate to save Dawn. But let me try to find someone who is willing. You didn't ask Ethan's permission."

            "Yes I did."

            "When? I was here the whole time, I didn't hear you…"

            "Just now. I can hear his thoughts. His mind is all around me, blood and metal and brain tissue- all of it. I know him better than he knows himself. All he cares about is getting this over with and leaving the country."

            "Metal? What you do mean?"

            "His chip," Spike said. "The Initiative must have chipped him. Cut off his magic. Must have been the only way to keep him in a cell. No wonder he's in such a hurry to skip town. He probably wants to get it out."

            "We'll worry about that later. Right now, let's just move on. We need to focus." She looked from the tree's trunk to Ethan's face and back again, unsure of where to center her attention. "Dawn. My… my daughter. I'm here because of her."

            "Ethan's mind contains this knowledge. I'm aware of what you seek."

"Great. That's… that's great." She took a deep breath. _Stay calm. Be clear. I'll get her back. I can do this. _"I need to know what I did wrong. What was it that happened, that took me away from Dawn?"

"You died." Spike cocked his head at the seer. "That was it, wasn't it? She died. Not a natural thing. And then being brought back, well, that was a freak show like you wouldn't believe."

"I was thinking the same thing," Buffy said. "About the death. Not the freak show part, though he's not too wrong there. But the death… was that it?"

"It could have been many things. Every instance you have lived through changes where you will end up. The one moment that altered your destiny will be difficult to find, but speculation is not the way. To learn the truth of where your life branched away from your destiny, we must enter your minds."

Buffy frowned. "Enter our minds? How are you going to do that?"

"Magic. Come close to me, both of you."

Eyeing the tree and the man in confusion, Buffy asked, "Which one of you?"

            "Ethan. Come to Ethan. Hold his hands."

            She obeyed, clasping Ethan's limp fingers around her own. "Come on, Spike. You're not getting squeamish on me now, are you?"

            Spike came forward with slow, clipped steps. "I don't like this, Buffy. Bad, bad things happen inside my mind. You don't want in here. **I** don't want in here."

            She reached out for him with her free hand and took his, completing the circle. "It's alright. I've already seen the worst of you, remember?"  
  


            He blinked in surprise. "That's supposed to be reassuring?" 

            "I'm still here, aren't I? So, hush. We've gotta do this."

            Releasing her hand just long enough to tap his forehead, he tried to smile. "For the Nibblet, I'd let anyone inside here. Just wanted to give a fair notice is all."

            She took up his hand again and gave it a squeeze. "Okay, seer. What now?"

            Without warning, the dim light turned to pitch blackness. Buffy could see nothing. Clinging to Spike and Ethan's hands, she started to ask what was happening when the sensation of numbness fell over her. _I can't breathe, _she thought, panic rising in her throat. _Or move, or see, or…_

            "Buffy!" 

            She could hear Spike calling her as if from far away. _Why can he talk when I can't? _Trying again to shout, she choked instead. _Great. This is just great. What the hell is going on?_

            "You are safe, Slayer. Do not fear." Ethan's voice rang inside her head, but the words belonged to the seer. "It's over now. See? Open your eyes."

            She did, slowly, sensation coming back to her body like warm water over her skin. Blinking in the light, it took her a moment to realize what she was looking at.

            "Oh… my…" Rubbing her eyes with her fists, she took a step forward towards the sight: two people lying together on a bed, one a woman, one a child. One so familiar, tears prickled at the backs of her eyes. "Mommy?"

             "She cannot hear you." 

            Turning her head, she saw Ethan standing in the doorway. In **her** doorway, she corrected herself, shaking her head in bewilderment. "This… this was my bedroom in LA, when I was a little girl. And that's… that's me lying there with my mom. How can this be possible? What are you doing to me?"

            "We're in the past, Buffy," Spike said, walking out from behind her. 

            "Spike… look at yourself. You're just like before." Her hand reached out as if by its own accord to touch the bleached hair above his ear. "You even have your duster back."

            "Clear-headed, too. Don't ask me how. I haven't felt this good in months." A hesitant smile grew on his face. "I can think again. The pain is all but gone. Whatever's happening, it's good for me."

            "I am holding your minds inside of me," the seer said. "For you, vampire, I have numbed the emotions and memories that would make you incapable of enduring this mission."

            "And me?" Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her mother's cheek. "Why did you bring me here?"

            "It seemed best to take you to a comforting memory first, until you've adjusted to what we are doing." Ethan looked down at Buffy as she stroked her mother's hair. "She cannot feel you. No matter what you do to her, she will not know you are here."

            "We're not really in the past, are we?" She inhaled deeply, taking in her mother's soothing scent. "We're not really here."

            "That is correct. We are inside your mind at the moment. I searched it for a memory of comfort, and you brought us here."

            "'S that how you'll take us to the time when she screwed it all up? You'll pick through her brain for a memory of… what?" Spike walked around to bed to sit beside the image of young Buffy. He touched a finger lightly to her nose, his face going soft. "This is good, here," he said, giving the real Buffy a glance. "Can't we stay for a while?"

            "No," the seer answered. "We cannot linger any longer than necessary. I will search her memory for times of heightened emotion, confusion, and turmoil. Certainly the moment of error would have caused such feelings."

            "Great," Buffy said, pulling herself away from her mother. She stood up and walked across the room before the temptation to stay grew any bigger. "Confusion and turmoil. Lots of emotion. Huh. Did Ethan warn you I had a pretty bad few years? 'Cause I'm thinking we'll be walking around in my memories for a couple centuries if we have to go through each and every time my life sucked."

            "You are ready? We shall move onto the next." 

            "And where will that be?" Buffy's words were swallowed as the blackness overtook her again. 

            When the light returned, all she could do was stare. _The tower. And that's the portal. Dawn is up at the top, but it looks like she's alone. Where am I?_

            "Bloody hell," Spike muttered, looking upwards. "It's…"

            "The portal," she whispered. "I never saw it from below. What's happening up-"

            Her words were cut off by the sound of something falling. Turning around, she saw that it was her own dead body hitting the cement.

            "B-bloody h-hell," she stuttered and fell to her knees. "That's me."

            Spike dropped down beside her, clutching her elbow. "I- I know. Believe me, Buffy, I know. Got the memory. We must be in my head now. This is all rewind to me." He pointed to their left. "As you can see."

              Her whole body flinched as she watched her friends walk towards the body- _my body. _"Giles… Will… Tara… Xander and Anya… but where are you? And where's… oh." 

            She turned and saw Spike's old self, crumbled on the ground in a sobbing ball, and Dawn crouched next to him, holding his shoulders, pale and trembling as she looked upon the dead body of the woman who was her mother. 

            "Dawn," Buffy said, both hands pressed against her mouth. "Oh God."

            "Let's go," Spike told the seer. He held Buffy tightly, keeping her from moving any closer to her dead self. "Now, seer. There's nothing here. Nothing."

            Buffy fell against Spike as the world went totally, mercifully, black.  


	5. Chapter Five

Undone Five

A/N: Includes lines from the poem, _Invictus_ by William Ernest Henley. Thanks go to Sass for the beta and for putting up with all my bitching about this chapter, as well as to faerie babee,whose review inspired me.

*****

As the blackness dissipated, Buffy looked around, feeling uncertain. "What are 

we doing here?" she asked, studying her surroundings. "I know this place. It's the cemetery on the west side of town. And that's… oh. An open grave." She crept closer to the grave's edge and peered inside. "There's someone in there. I can't see his face, just his back, but I think he's digging the body up. Spike, this must be your memory, not mine. I've never been here before." 

            "Bugger," Spike muttered. He backed away from Buffy, recognition obvious on his face. Grabbing the Seer's arm, he said, "C'mon, onto the next, alright? Nothing to see here."

            Buffy quirked her brow. "Nothing you want me to see, that is," she said. She got down on her knees for a better look, but the man in the grave was still bent over. "What's going on, Spike? Who is that?"

            "It's…" He hesitated. "Look harder."

            "What?" Her eyes narrowed as the person in the grave raised his head. He was facing the head of the grave, away from Buffy, but no one else could have hair that pale or those lean shoulders. "Spike. Well, I guess it's not surprising. You are a vampire after all, and vamps and graves being the mixy things they are…. But why were you digging it up? Baby vamps do that all on their own."

            He answered by pointing to the tombstone. _Buffy Summers. 1981-2001. Beloved sister, devoted friend. She saved the world a lot._

"That's me… me." It took a second for the idea to sink in. When it did, her back stiffened with astonishment. "You tried to dig me up! Are you insane?" Whirling to face him, her hands in fists, she advanced on him. "How could you do that to me? You… I thought you were different. Different than them. You know better. Enough to leave me alone, at least."

            She hadn't known it was possible for him to grown paler, but he did. Closing his eyes, he pointed again to the grave. "Just watch," he told her.

            Slowly, the other Spike straightened, gripping the shovel like a cane to help him stand. He tipped his head back as if he could feel the weight of the moonlight on his cheeks and stayed frozen that way, gulping breaths making clouds of condensation in the cold air. 

            "You were breathing," Buffy said. The tone of her voice surprised her. It was even and calm, as if watching Spike dig up her grave were a normal thing for them to be doing. "Why bother?"  
  


            "We do that. Vampires. When we…" He cleared his throat with a rough cough. "When we cry."

            "Oh," she said in her normal voice, gritting her teeth at the sound. _Like it's nothing that he hurt so badly for me. _She saw them now, the other Spike's tears, running over his cheeks to drip down his neck. Releasing the shovel, he raised his arms up above his head and cried towards the stars, oblivious to his audience. "Oh. You… you couldn't do it, could you? You tried to dig me up, but…" Her words trailed off as the other Spike climbed out of the grave and began pushing the loose dirt back over the coffin with his hands. "You tried, but you couldn't." 

            Spike patted his pocked for a cigarette by habit. He didn't look at Buffy. "Seer, can we go now? Don't know why we're here at all. Nothing to learn about Dawn. Just a…" He waved towards his other self. "This was private. She was dead. I never wanted her to see me this way."

            The Seer cocked his head. "Did you not? Then why did you call out for her?"

            "He's not calling out for me," Buffy said, her attention focused on the other Spike. "His lips are moving, but there's no sound."

            "That is because I have muted the scene. Your worry for your privacy is appropriate, vampire, but you may believe that I wish no undue emotional strain." 

            Rolling his eyes, Spike said, "Thanks heaps. Now let's go, already."

            "Wait," Buffy said, moving closer to the other Spike, who knelt in the soft dirt with both hands on her headstone, caressing it gently. "Un-mute it, okay? I want to hear what he's saying."

            Spike snorted his displeasure at that idea. "Buffy, I'm right here. You could just ask me."

"Sure, I could. But I know what you'd say, and it wouldn't be yes."

            ""Course it wouldn't be yes. This…" Taking a step closer to the Seer, he said, "It's not right. You doing this. Poking through my head, showing her these moments of… she doesn't need to see this. It won't help us save Dawn, and it will make things harder when we're done." 

            "Vampire, you are correct. Scenes such as this are irrelevant to the objective of seeking the moment of change."

"So far, nothing we've seen has been super relevant," Buffy said. "But hey, we're here. I've already seen this much. Not much of a point in keeping the rest secret."

            The Seer nodded, and as he did, the world was suddenly filled with noise. Birds chirped, tree leaves rustled in the breeze and somewhere in the distance, a car horn honked.  

Startled, Buffy fell back onto her rear. "I didn't realize how quiet things were before you did that," she said, blushing.

            "Hush, Slayer. You wanted to hear him." The Seer pointed at the other Spike. "Be quiet and listen."

            She fell silent, listening, and after a moment the other Spike started to ramble, speaking to the headstone. "Still patrolling with the Scoobies. Don't know why I bother, tell you the truth. Half the time I'd rather see Harris get his head torn off by the monster of the moment. You know that git read Henley at your service?" He made a mocking snort. "_Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul._ Not that you'd know Henley, but come on, even a half-wit like Harris could think up with something more fitting… something more meaningful to your… to what happened to you. You know?"

He paused for a minute, then went on. "But it's good to get out, see people, even _those_ people. Patrolling with them gives me my spot of violence. Satisfies the beast, you could say. After, I drop by for some time with the Bit. What can I tell you 'bout her? Still cheeky as ever. A klepto too, though she'd never admit it, even to me. Not like I'd turn her in, but at least I could be sure she's being smart about it. Don't want to see her end up in kiddie jail over a tooth brush. 'Nother thing she thinks no one knows… most nights, I watch from outside, I see her go and lie down with the Bot. Snuggles right up and pretends it's you. Now, you might say I'm not one to cast stones when it comes to pretending the Bot's the real deal, but we both know this is different. The Bit puts on a tough front but in the dark, she's just a lonely little child."

            Pulling her legs up to her chest, Buffy buried her face against her knees. "Oh, Dawnie," she said, the words stretching out long and breathy. "I had no idea. Not about any of it."

"Enough, alright?" Spike dragged his hands through his hair roughly. "Enough."

            The Seer clapped his hands, silencing the scene once again. 

            "Clap on, clap off, eh?" Shooting a glimpse at Buffy, Spike tried out a smile that didn't quite make it to convincing. "Like that bloody irritating commercial."    

Buffy's gaze flip-flopped between the two Spikes. Skipping over his attempt at levity, she folded her arms tightly around her legs and said, "You watched the house at night? No one told me. And Dawn… my god, she really did that?"  
  


            Spike's shoulders went rigid with tension. "Forget it, Slayer. You wanted to listen, and you did. Don't make me explain. I'm not part of this."

            "If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but you are a part of this, Spike. This is your memory. You brought us here for a reason." She stood and brushed at her pants before remembering no dirt would cling to them. _Memory dirt equals no stains. Guess this isn't all bad. Except for the death and the grave and the digging up of my body and the… okay, it's pretty bad._ "For a reason, but why? We should stop a minute and work out what's going on."

He relaxed a fraction at the change of topic. "I can't figure it. There must be a reason we're here, but I have no idea what it could be. What does this have to do with you and Dawn?" 

            They both turned to the Seer, who shrugged.

            Buffy's eyes widened. "Umm, excuse me? You're shrugging at us? Aren't you supposed to be all-knowing?" 

            "Maybe it's channeling a bit of Ethan. Or maybe it just doesn't know." Spike crossed his arms. "Listen, Seer, explain to us a thing or two. Why are we here? And how does this whole thing work, anyway. You were obviously off the mark when you talked about revisiting all Buffy's past uglies. Three memories so far, and two have been mine."

            Blinking serenely, the Seer said, "All will be made clear, in time."  

            "Oh, that's _so _helpful," Buffy said. At the grave, the other Spike stood, his head bent towards the ground. He put a trembling hand into the pocket of his duster and pulled out a small rosebud. Before he placed it on the stone, Buffy closed her eyes, too perturbed to watch any more. "I don't want to be here. I've seen my own grave a few too many times for comfort. Let's go someplace else now."

            "Somewhere relevant," Spike added.

            "All will be made clear, in time," the Seer repeated in the same, cool tone. 

            "In time… great, but how much time? How long is this going to take?" Buffy tapped her temple with one finger. "There are tons of memories in this head of mine. We could spend years hopping through each and every one. And adding Spike's to that-"

            "I've got nearly two centuries worth, myself," Spike said. He stood at Buffy's side, scowling. "You're supposed to be a Seer. Well, can't you just…"

            "See?" Grabbing the Seer's arm- _Ethan's arm,_ she reminded herself- Buffy squeezed hard, her temper rising. "You know what? I'm starting to think you're not being exactly open with us. What's the whole truth, huh? What do you know that we don't?"

            Spike eased closer to Buffy. "Don't set him off, pet," he said. "Remember Brother Pavel."

            "Pavel was super freaked about you," Buffy said, not backing down. She gave the Seer a shake. "But he was only a monk. Only a man. I'm something different."

            "You are a girl," the Seer said, serene even under Buffy's anger. "You are the Slayer."

            "That's right. I'm not afraid of you and believe me, you don't start talking, you're going to find out just how un-monk-like I am." Annoyed with herself- _where are all my witty insults when I need them?- _she bit down on her lip. "Umm… that's much scarier than it sounds."

            The Seer angled his head oddly to the side. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, then he smiled, somewhat. The expression was so soulless, Buffy dropped her hands from his arm, her nerves immediately put on edge. "It is time now," the Seer said.

            Exchanging a puzzled glance with Buffy, Spike asked, "Time for what?"

            "A last vision, to give you clarity. I will take you to the point of this journey."

The world began to spin and blur. Losing both vision and balance, Buffy reached out for Spike only to find nothing but empty space. She groped blindly at the darkness, her thoughts shrill as screams in her mind. _I thought Dawn was the point? What is happening? What don't we know? Which part of if all was a lie?_

            With a jolt, the world stilled. Her arms lowered hard, clutching Spike's shoulders before she realized she stood up against his back. Clinging to him for a moment, she took a deep breath, getting her bearings. "Where are we?" She spoke the words into the hollow of his shoulder blades, her forehead pressed against his nape. Nausea rolled through her, and she gulped. "Spike?"

            "Buffy." He drew her around to stand at his side, supporting her while she attempted to gain back her equilibrium. "Look, Buffy."

            "Give me a minute. I'm all wonky-headed." She let herself reel into his side, grateful for the weight of his hands on her shoulders. "Guess it's harder for humans to jump memories that way. Even stronger-than-average humans like me. And here I thought this Slayer stuff had advantages." _Where are we,_ she wondered, unable to raise her head without bringing on waves of dizziness.

            "Buffy, look." Spike wrapped one arm around her and used the other to point through the darkness to… 

            She lifted her head slowly, his severe tone piercing through her sickness. "What… what is this?" 

            They stood in the living room of the Summers' house. It was nighttime, and the lights were turned out. The television set glowed in the corner, its screen giving just enough light to make visible the three people who were curled together on the couch. Spike sat slouched on the center cushion, his head tipped back, asleep. Two long-haired heads rested in his lap, one blond, one brunette. Buffy slept nestled to his left and Dawn to his right. Dawn's face above Spike's knee was slack, and from her open mouth came soft, rhythmic snores. _She's alive. Breathing. But…this can't be a memory. It never happened._

            "It's us," Buffy said. Perplexed shock trumped her nausea and gave her the strength to stand on her own. She shrugged out of Spike's grasp and walked closer to the couch. Glancing briefly at the Seer who stood in the doorway, she gave him a quizzical glare, but she was unable to keep her eyes off the scene for long. "But how…"

            "It's not a memory. It's not even the past. Don't know what's what, but I know that much. Because… well, look. Under his- my- shirt." He bent over the couch and tugged on the edges of the other Spike's unbuttoned shirt, opening it. "Can't be the past. Has to be the future."

            In the flickering light of the television, the other Spike's skin took on a bluish cast. With his head back, the line of his throat drew Buffy's attention first. She skimmed downwards, over his prominent collarbone to the flat, hard pectoral muscles and on them, thick, prominent scars made barely-visible in the dimness. "The scars. You're right. It has to be." 

            "It is," the Seer agreed. "The near future. This is where you will find yourselves within the passing of three years. It will occur because of the journey we're taking at this very moment."

               "I get it now," Buffy said. She lowered herself onto the coffee table, her confusion giving way to awareness. "We've been totally mislead. Who was it? You, or the monks?"

            "We are one and the same for this purpose. I aided them in their deception." 

            Spike coughed. "Anyone feel like clueing me in?" 

"This is the path. Here. Right here. Dawn's path starts today, with this… with… well, I don't know what, exactly. With something we're doing right now." Buffy wound her fingers together, trying to put all the pieces together. "Start with the explanations, Seer. And stick to the truth this time."

"The Abbot told you a tale. He kept it as close to the truth as possible. The parts he lied about, he spoke in opposites. Dawn is your daughter, but it was never in your destiny to conceive her. She was pulled from the future, but a future of the monk's own creation. A future that's being created at this very moment."

"I don't understand. Why did the Abbot lie?" Buffy laid her hand on Dawn's

head, stroking her silky hair. "Why not just tell me the truth? I could've handled it. There's nothing I wouldn't have done to… to make Dawn exist."

            "Slayer, you do not yet understand what has occurred. The monks needed to incapacitate you and thus they brought you to me. They needed to take from your body enough of the essence of your being to create a new life. That life, who will be Dawn, will need to mature to full strength before they can insert the Key."

            Perching beside Buffy on the table, Spike said, "And if Buffy was around and conscious, she'd never let them muck up the Nibblet with the Key. So what are they doing right now?"

            "The new life will be matured artificially, with ancient magicks. Over the course of several days, it will grow into the girl you've always known. Dawn's memories will be implanted, and then, lastly, they will add into her blood the Key."

            Rubbing her face with both hands, Buffy shook her head. "I don't understand. I mean, I do, but I don't. How is this possible? How could they have pulled her out of the future, only to create her now?"  
  


"Sodding paradoxes. Never good for anything but a headache."

            "But that's not what I mean. Why didn't they just create her themselves and be done with it? Why mess with the future? If they hadn't, she wouldn't have… have died, or whatever. The Key wouldn't be coming out of her." 

"If they hadn't acted as they have, you wouldn't have come to them and allowed yourself to be incapacitated, mind and body, long enough for the monks to steal your essence," the Seer explained. "There is an element of paradox. However, magic is never without ambiguity."

Spike inched closer to Buffy, positioning himself protectively at her back. "What are they doing to her right now, while we're futzing around in our heads. This stealing her essence bit… what does that mean?"  

            "The Slayer's female essence has already been extracted by magical means and combined with male essence to form the new being. It was a long procedure, but she felt no pain and will bear no marks thanks to my presence in her mind. And in yours, vampire. You too will be unharmed."

            _Male… Spike… _"Male essence." Buffy braced her hands on her knees. "You mean Spike?"

            "The vampire was the contributor, yes."

            Spike jumped to his feet and backed away from them. He looked from Buffy to the Seer, then to Dawn, where he lingered, his expression caught between panic and fascination. Abruptly, a new thought seemed to strike him, and he strode forward. Seizing the Seer by the throat, Spike pinned him against the wall. "What did you wankers do to her!"

            "I told you, the Slayer wasn't harmed." 

            Spike growled low in his chest and tightened his hands around the Seer's throat.  "Not the Slayer, the girl. Dawn. You put bits of me into her? Polluted her that way? You don't call that harm?"

            "I never said the new being would not be harmed," the Seer said evenly, meeting Spike's glare with impassive eyes. "Only that the Slayer would feel no change."

            "No change? Her sister- daughter- whatever, Dawn's got parts of a demon in her. You don't think that'll make an impact?" Spike slammed the Seer against the wood paneling. "Don't you get it? It will change everything!"

            "Spike," Buffy cautioned. She went to him and grabbed his arms. "You want to put down the mysterious, annoyed, extremely-powerful demon? Please?"

            With a snarl of aggravation, he dropped his arms to his sides and loped away to the staircase. He sat and put his head in his hands. Buffy left the Seer where he'd fallen on the ground and went to Spike. "Hey," she said, kneeling in front of him. "Don't wig out on me again."

            "His mind is still protected within the grasp of my powers," said the Seer.

            "Fine, thanks," Buffy snapped at the demon, then softened her voice and touched the top of Spike's head. The hair beneath her fingers felt soft. She pushed down a little, trying to comfort him without words since she knew she had to get him moving. "Spike. Come on. We have to deal with this."

            "Buffy. I…" He picked up his head and dodged to the side, making her let go of him. "I didn't want this. But I… I don't know what to do."

             She got up and held out her hand to him steadily. "Maybe we can fix it. Somehow." 

            "No," the Seer said. "You cannot change what has already occurred. Do not be alarmed, vampire. The Slayer is the only essence of importance. You were used because you were available, and for no other reason."

            With her hand still out, Buffy said, "The only one available? There were plenty of monks."

            "It would have gone against their vows to God. The vampire had no such vows. He was the appropriate male in this situation."

            A sudden thought made Buffy recoil. "It could have been Ethan. Oh, thank god he's trapped inside a tree. Or, a tree's trapped inside him. Whatever. It could have been… eww. Just…. eww."

            "And a vampire's better?" Spike shoved her hand away. "Should be wishing it was the sorcerer. 'Least he's human."

            "Spike, it doesn't matter right now. We have to save Dawn. If we can get to her before they put the Key into her, we'll never have to worry about any of this again. No monks, no knights, no hellgods… Dawn will be… well, as normal as she can be." Sticking her hand back to him, she said, "Are you with me?"

            He couldn't meet her eyes, but took her hand and let her pull him up. "You'll be letting us back into our bodies now, right Seer?" he asked. 

            "Momentarily."

            "No, not in a moment. Now." Buffy's color rose as anger filled her. "This… this is rape, don't you get that? What they are doing right now to my body, and to Spike's… it's beyond unethical. You're supposed to be a good guy, a good demon. How can you let them… let them…" 

            "The Key must be protected. There is nothing more imperative. Even justice."

            Buffy clenched her fists. "No. Because I'm going to get to her before they put the Key in. Before they ruin her life. Then I'm going to make them pay for what they're doing. And you, too, if you don't help us. There must be an axe in the cabana somewhere."

            "Calm yourself, Slayer. The monks are aware of your preference. However, someone must protect the Key, and just as the Slayer's daughter is the only one strong enough to hold the Key within her, you are the only one strong enough to protect it."

"She's not strong! She's just a kid!" _I'm going to kill this demon so dead, he'll… he'll…_She inhaled deeply, overwhelmed with fury.

            "How much longer?" Spike asked as Buffy tried to settle herself down. He put  his body between Buffy and the Seer.    

            "Only one more minute before I am allowed to return you to your bodies," the Seer said. "It will be several days before the new being matures enough to manage the Key's power."

            "One minute. Slayer? I can go one minute without killing this wanker if… if you can, too. Right?"

            "Right, fine," she said. She paced the entry way with sharp strides. "I'll do whatever I have to do. And you will to, Spike. We need to come out of here kicking. You understand?"

"As soon as he lets us go, I'll be ready. Time yet, Seer?"

"Farewell, vampire. And farewell Slayer," the Seer responded. "We will not meet again."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Buffy said. "Remember what I said about the axe?"

            The words had barely left her mouth when her vision started to spin. The last thing she saw was the Seer with one hand raised in a wave before senselessness overtook her.

*****

            When Buffy opened her eyes, the cabana was dark. Night had fallen during their time with the Seer. She jerked upright, searching the room. Spike sat beside her, rubbing his eyes. Against the far wall, Ethan was lying where the Seer tree had been. _Had been?_

"It's gone," Spike said, affirming her thought. "Shriveled up and disappeared into its root system."

            "Maybe I should'nt have mentioned that axe so many times." Buffy stood on shaky legs and made her way over to Ethan. Kneeling beside him, she groped his neck in search of a pulse. "I was really looking forward to hacking it into bits."

            "As was I," Ethan mumbled. He batted away her fingers weakly, yawning. "You've no idea…"

            "Doesn't matter." She grabbed him under his arms and tugged him up. "We don't have time. The monks have Dawn and we have to get to her before they stick the Key in her."

            "I know. I was there, as you may recall." Ethan grimaced as Buffy poked one of the deep wounds where the tree's limbs had impaled him. "Not a willing partner, but an observant one."

            "Yes, you've been abused. Gee, sorry. Get up and quit whining." Buffy turned to Spike. "You okay? Feeling sane?"  
  


            He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. "I feel better'n Dawn will, we don't get a move on."

            "Okay. It's night, so no problems with the sun. You and Ethan follow me. Keep him on his feet. The monks won't want to hand over Dawn, but hey, they're monks. It's not like they're going to fight me." 

Spike raised an eyebrow. "And if they do?"

            "Then I'll fight," she said simply. "If that happens, you grab Dawn."

            "I thought he was helping me?" Ethan asked. He was upright, but leaning heavily against the wall. 

            "Dawn first," she told Spike. "Then Ethan."  
  


            "Like I'd do it any other way," he retorted.

            She left the cabana and ran across the yard, around the pool and up the back steps to the kitchen door. It was half-open, which made her pause, but only for a moment. The kitchen was empty, as was the living room. Racing down the hallway, she checked all of the rooms and found no one. The downstairs was empty too. As she finished searching the garage, she heard Spike calling her from the living room.

            "Did you find her?" Buffy asked as she came up the stairs, breathless more from fright than exertion. 

            "No," Spike said. "You neither?"

            "They're gone, all of them. And they've taken Dawn with them." She fell onto the couch, fighting to stay composed. "They're buying themselves time, trying to keep her hidden until they get the Key all safe inside her."

            "It's here, in their note," Spike said.

            Buffy noticed the paper he held for the first time. She took it from him and read it aloud. "We have your daughter. She is safe. We will return her to you when the process is completed."  

            Ethan twitched, clearly in pain. "Not much on words, are they. Does that mean we go now?"

            "I don't know," Buffy said. She closed her eyes, trying to think. _They must have another place in town. There's no way they could get her on an airplane or anything public when she's all glowy, or… or unformed. I have to figure out where. It could be anyplace. And who knows how much of a head start they've gotten. The Seer made time go all crazy. It's impossible to tell how long it's been. I need… I just need…_

"Well, we have to do something. I'm bleeding all over my nice shirt- formerly nice shirt, I should say- and your vampire appears a bit worse for wear as, I might add, do you. Buffy, do you hear me? Have you listened to a word I've said?"

            "Ethan. Shut up. I just need a minute. I have to think." _There's the mansion, of course. And the crypts, some of them are empty. Or maybe they have another monastery like this one. Some normal looking house with normal looking stuff outside where they're holding Dawn and preparing to hurt her beyond anything I can fix…_

"Less thinking, Buffy. More action. If we stay here much longer, we risk attracting the wrong sort of attention- ouch!"

            Buffy opened her eyes and saw Ethan covering his wounded shoulders defensively and glowering at Spike. Spike didn't seem to care. He caught her look and said, "He'll heal. What now, Slayer?"

"Spike. We- we have to go. Ethan's right. Whatever the monks have planned, they don't seem to mean us any harm, but there's no way to be sure. We can't go back to my house, it's sure to be swarming with pissed off Knights by now. Same with the motel."

Spike nodded. "Where to, then?"  

            "I don't know. The Magic Box was sold, and- oh! Xander's apartment. The Knights won't track us there and it's sort of secluded. Once we're there, we can figure out our next move, which will be tracking down the monks. And I can call Giles. We need help of the brainy variety."            

            "You think they're hanging around town?"

            "They must be. Where could they go?" Buffy got up off the couch and led them down the stairs to the front door. "Remember how Dawn looked last time we saw her? And who knows what state she's in now. There's no way they could take her out in public like that, not without too many questions getting asked. No, they'd keep her close by, I'm sure of it. We just need to get to Xander's place, call Giles, and then…" She opened the front door and pushed Ethan out in front of her. "And then, find them. Find Dawn."

            Spike caught her shoulder, making her pause on the threshold. "Find Dawn. And then what? You going to tell her what's happened? Tell her who she is?"

            Buffy winced at the turmoil that was so clear in the conflict playing over the features of his face. "I… I don't know. Yes, probably."

            He let her go, but lingered behind. "Don't tell her, Slayer," he said. "Let her think she's as pure as you are. Don't tell her what they did to her. What they put in her. Don't tell her she's part… part _me._"

            She gave him a long, searching stare. He turned his head, hiding from her scrutiny. "Spike," she started, but stopped, not knowing what to say. 

            "Forget it for now. Let's just… let's just go." He brushed past her down the steps and into the driveway, leaving her to shut the door alone.

            She waited on the porch as he helped Ethan into the Explorer and could think only of his words at her gravestone. "Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul."


	6. Chapter Six

Undone Six

A/N: Thanks to Sass, beta extraordinaire.

*****

            Xander's apartment was pitch black and cold enough to make Buffy wish she was wearing more than a thin monk's robe. She felt up the wall for the light switch, beckoning Ethan and Spike through the doorway after her. "It's okay, the place is empty. Xander's been gone for months and no one else has a key."

            Spike made his way into the living room, pulling Ethan alongside. The couch was covered with Xander's clothes. Kicking them aside, he released Ethan but didn't sit beside him. Awareness made his body tense. He jerked his head towards the hallway. "Someone's here, Slayer. Down that way."

            A pile of stakes cluttered the kitchen table. Buffy snatched one up and started towards the hallway. "Stay put," she hissed at Spike and then pointedly, to Ethan, said, "And stay quiet."

            The hallway wasn't long, but it was dark. Buffy couldn't see the three doors to Xander's bedroom, a small storage room, and the bathroom. She checked Xander's room first and found it empty, as was the storage room. The door to the bathroom was shut. She leaned against the frame, her stake held firmly at chest level, and listened. _Water's running… that's the sink, I think. Vamps aren't generally the type to be worried about germs, but it could be anything or anyone, really, this place has sat vacant for so long.   _

            She turned the knob but found it locked. Raising her fist, she knocked hard. "Whoever you are, open the door. If you make me break it down I'm going to be seriously pissy."

            The door opened and a cloud of steam emerged. Giles appeared in the hallway, his hair damp and tousled, his shirt open, a towel in his hand. "Pissy?"

            Buffy took a step back, blinking hard. "Giles?" She started to hug him, then thought better of it. "You're all wet. But you're… Giles."

            He buttoned his shirt and toweled his wet hair briskly. "You were expecting someone else?"  
  


            "No, but I sure wasn't expecting you. What about Willow? Should you have left her alone right now? She-she probably needs you and-and…" 

            "She may, but you do as well. I'm not Willow's Watcher, Buffy. I'm yours. I came straightaway after hearing your message. You sounded like you could use a hand."

            She inched closer to him, his solid presence a comfort she could barely stand to give herself. _I'm the Slayer. I'm a grown-up. This is my mess. I shouldn't… but, oh, I'm so glad he's here. _"She must be okay without you or you wouldn't have left her."

            Touching her shoulder reassuringly, he said, "She's unconscious. It's doubtful she'll even notice my absence. Now, Buffy. What's happened here? I went to your house and found it overrun with the Knights of Byzantium. From there I went to Spike's crypt, searching for you, and came across Clem. He informed me of all he knew, but that wasn't much. He told me about Spike. And Dawn…" Tossing the towel on the floor behind him, he shook his head. "The Key is breaking down? Dawn is… she's dead, you said in your message, but…"

            "She's not dead," Buffy said. She scooped up his towel and took it into the bathroom. Folding it over the top of the shower to dry, she tried to think of a way to sum up the story. Giles leaned against the sink, patient as always.

Slowly, with many hesitations, she filled him in on the events of the last few days. She kept to the facts as much as possible, glossing over her horror at seeing her sister- _daughter_- sans humanity and leaving out the details of Spike's emotional break-downs. Even with the omissions, she was shaken at the end and feeling the full effects of her exhaustion for the first time. "So, that's the sitch. We need to find the monks before they stick the Key into Dawn."

            His eyes radiating curiosity, Giles began to speak but stopped as Buffy sagged tiredly against the wall. Giving her a warm smile, he took her arm in his. "That's enough for the moment. There's nothing to be done until you've had a rest. Let's go out to the living room. Spike and Ethan must be at each other's throats by now."

            "What? No. We need to make a plan. I don't need sleep," she argued feebly. She let him lead her down the hall and to the couch where Ethan was slumped over, sleeping hard. She sat on the edge of the cushion, her red eyes straining to stay open wide. "Giles, you're supposed to be here to help, not play English nanny on me. Dawn needs us."

            "She's safe enough for the night from what you said. The monks will need time to progress her body to the age she was when you last saw her." Turning to Spike, Giles studied the vampire, sizing him up.

            Spike stood up straight, meeting Giles' scrutiny as if he'd expected no less, but he couldn't seem to help the slight squirm that grew in him as the moment dragged on unnaturally long. "See anything you like?" he finally muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Giles' lips twitched but otherwise his expression remained enigmatic. "Spike. You're looking… thin."

            "Did the Slayer fill you in on…" He gestured to his chest. "Everything?'

            Giles nodded. "She told me about Dawn. I was made aware ofyour soul when I crossed paths with Clem earlier this evening. Your soul… well, it's an unexpected singularity." Softening, he said, "A miracle. Don't think that means I like you. You've been a pain in my… side more times than I can count. However…" He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations on overcoming your nature."

            Accepting the handshake, Spike said simply, "Thanks." 

            Giles gave his hand a hard squeeze. "And how fortunate that you're back in town for this turn of events. Buffy can use all the help she can get. She looks tired, don't you think?"

"Hey," Buffy objected. "You try doing what I've done and see how Maybelline fresh you look."

"She's a right to be knackered. Those monks picked her over, body and mind. Not to mention all the paradox talk. Try wrapping your brain around that one for a bit and you'll see why she's…" Spike yawned hard, interrupting himself. "We're all knackered."

Still holding Spike's hand, Giles said, "She should get some rest. Perhaps… perhaps something hot to drink would help." 

Spike looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at Giles and nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Tea then?" he asked, heading for the kitchen. Buffy couldn't see his face, but his voice held an odd note. 

"Cocoa," Buffy corrected, slouching back onto the couch, too tired to wonder why he sounded so strange. "And maybe a quick nap." She let her eyes slide closed but her mind raced, abuzz with worry and speculation. _Maybe cocoa will help. But first, a plan._

"Cocoa. Right," Spike said, leaving the room.

"We need to find the monks." Buffy opened her eyes, determination pulsing inside of her. _We'll find them. She'll be safe. That's all that matters_. "Any ideas?"

Nudging Ethan's leg to the side, Giles sat beside Buffy. "Have you any thoughts as to where they might be hiding?"  

"None. Well, okay, there are the usual places bad guys like to hide. Crypts, the mansion, the factories, the woods… but somehow, I can't see monks living in the cemetery. Then again, their monastery came as a surprise."

            "Perhaps they have another house somewhere in town. I doubt they'd leave, not with Dawn in the condition she must have been in, and the Key in its raw state."

            "The Key was still in Dawn last time I saw it. Glowey and everything."

            "Yes, I understand that. But Dawn would have vanished from around it the moment the monks collected her essence from you and… and from Spike. Paradoxes are bad enough; to have her existing in two places at once would have been… well, I'd like to say impossible, but I've learned not to use that word when it comes to all matters involving you." 

            "And Spike." She tried to smile but it died before it reached her eyes. "Nice soul he's got, huh?"

Slipping off his glasses, Giles sighed. "About that, Buffy…"

"Here you go," Spike said, returning with a steaming mug in his hands. "Cocoa. All Harris had were the little packets of power mix, so don't be expecting your mum's touch or anything."

"Hot. Liquidy. Chocolate. Therefore, good." Buffy took it from him and inhaled deeply. "Mmm." She tipped the mug back and drank it down in three quick gulps.

"Buffy!" Flushing, Giles grabbed her arm and pulled the mug away from her face. He hid a laugh by clearing his throat. "Drink it slowly. You don't want to…"

Spike let out a loud snicker. He fell to his knees on the floor, laughter shaking his entire body. "You… you…" he gasped, but couldn't stop laughing long enough to speak.

A heady feeling overwhelmed Buffy, dulling her senses with its heat. Her limbs tingled for a moment before an intense heaviness weighted them down, along with her eyelids. _They… they didn't. Damn it. _"Oh… I get it. That's why you guys held hands for so long. Wondered what was up with the touchie-feelies."

"You've a right to be upset, but do try to see reason. It's not like you'd take the pills on your own. I don't like tricking you, but you need more than an hour's rest and as you are the most stubborn creature I've ever known, resorting to trickery seemed the only option." Giles peered into the mug, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he subdued a smile. "Of course, I didn't expect you to gulp it down like you did."

Dropping her head back involuntarily, Buffy said, "I can't believe you guys did this." Her stomach rolled as the medication gripped her. "What did you give me?"

"Sleeping pills, prescribed to me. Ehm, a triple dose, to suit your supernatural physiology." 

"Sorry Slayer," Spike said, still giggling. Hiccup-like snorts punctuated each word. "Trauma-induced laughter here. Just… getting rid of some tension, that's all. Not laughing at you, pet. Really."

"You guys shouldn't have done this. We have…" Rolling her head up, trying to stay conscious, she licked her lips. "We have work to do. Who's gonna find the monks huh? Ethan's out, I will be too, thanks to drug-guy here. Giles, you're hardly back in town, and Spike, well, it wasn't too long ago you were having fits when the lights turned on. Now you think you can do recon by yourself?" 

            "The Seer's twiddling in my head wasn't all bad. My thoughts aren't exactly peaches and roses, but I'm lucid enough. Be better when I get some blood in me."

            Giles stood, stretching his back in an arch. "A plan, then. Spike, while you're out getting blood, have a look around and see if you notice anything unusual."

            Buffy mustered up enough strength to glare at him. "That's your plan?"

            "For the moment. After you're rested, there are other things we can do. A-a location spell, perhaps."  
  


            "You can do that?" Spike shrugged at Giles' scowl. "Sorry mate, just never saw you use anything without a thousand pages and a dank library smell." 

            "Spike," Giles said, "I suggest you leave now."

            Spike hesitated a moment, looking down at Buffy. "You need anything before I go?"

            A line of surprise formed between her brows. "No."

He nodded his head, to say good-bye she thought at first, but changed her mind when he paused that way. _He's bowing to me? _"Spike? What are you… look, I'll see you in a few. If you want to help, scout out the streets. Check Willie's, see if he knows anything. All the usual stuff."

Lifting his head, he smiled. "I can do that. Be back before you know it. Sleep well."

They watched him leave, the tails of his robe dragging around his ankles as he walked. When the door shut, Buffy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "He should have changed into some of Xander's clothes. If he goes into the bar dressed like a monk, Willie'll never let him live it down." Rubbing her eyes, she said, "I've gotta go lie down, but I don't think I can stand by myself. Nice drugs you've got there. You're not forgiven, by the way. I feel crappy."          

            "Forgiveness can wait. Come along now. Xander's room is not the epitome of cleanliness, but it's the only one with a bed. You'll feel better soon." Giles took her hand and helped her up. Putting one arm around her shoulders, he led her down the hallway and into the bedroom. 

*****

Spike reentered the apartment quietly. Storing the box of blood packets he'd retrieved from his crypt inside Xander's refrigerator, he crept over to the couch where Ethan slept. "Wake up," he said, prodding the sorcerer's leg with the toe of his boot. 

"Go away," Ethan mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

"Not likely." Taking hold of Ethan's arms, Spike pulled him to a stand. "We have work to do."

"Watch the shoulders. I'm wounded, remember." Squinting blearily, Ethan said, "You work all you want. I rather prefer a good, long sleep."

"You can sleep all you want after this is done. That's what you want, right? For this to be over so you can skip the country?" Spike pointed to the door. "Then let's go."

"The Slayer?"

"Never you mind about the Slayer."  Spike headed out of the apartment, only a little surprised when Ethan followed him. 

            The streets were empty. Spike walked fast, leaving Ethan laboring to catch up to him. "Where are we going?" Ethan asked, shivering a bit in the chill, night air. 

            "There's a girl 'needs saving," Spike said, scanning the alleys as he passed. "Monks won't waste any time getting the Key back inside her. We need to find them."

            "And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that? They leave some sort of calling card we missed? A map, perhaps? Or maybe you just petitioned your higher power and- umph." Recoiling, Ethan rubbed his arm. "For a man with a soul, you're awfully testy."  

            Spike worked his jaw, quickening his pace and making Ethan stumble to keep up. "I've got a soul. I'm not a ponce. There's a marked difference."

            "Which would be what, exactly?"  
  


            "You're a ponce. Harris is a ponce, most of the time. I am not. Get it?" Spike stopped abruptly, seeing his target. He pulled Ethan off the sidewalk into the concealing shadow of a large tree. Peering around the trunk, he assessed the scene.

            Buffy's house seemed to buzz with energy. Every window glowed with light. Spike could see Knights moving from room to room upstairs. In the living room, another group seemed to have settled in. He could almost hear their words. They were eating a pizza, Spike could see the cardboard boxes stacked on the Summers' coffee table, and for some reason, the sight spurred a wave of anger so strong, it was everything he could do to stay hidden. He wanted to storm inside and swipe the food from Buffy's table along with the smiles from the Knight's faces. _Along with their bloody faces,_ he added. _That's Buffy's living room, Buffy's home. That should be Buffy's pizza. She should be sitting there, giggling with Nibblet over music videos and popcorn. She should be sleeping in her own bed, safe, not stoned out of her head on the Watcher's Valium, not sleeping in a scratchy monk's robe. She should at least have her nice clothes. _

            "You have a plan?" Ethan ventured, leaning as far away from the tree as he could get within the bounds of the shadows. "And tell me it includes moving away from trees. I think I've developed a new phobia."   

            "No plan. Just… follow me. And keep your trap shut. Don't need you screwing this up by… being you." Spreading his arms out wide, Spike stepped out of the shadows. He took one slow step towards the porch, then another. "You coming?"

            "Do I have a choice?" Ethan grumbled. He winced as he raised his arms in a show of defenselessness. 

            "Hello!" Spike shouted. "We're waving the white flag out here!"

            "We don't have a…" Ethan bit his lip at Spike's glare. "Right." Raising his voice, he hollered, "Metaphorical white flag!"

Knights flooded out of the house, their swords drawn and held high. They circled Spike and Ethan, trapping them inside the yard. Ethan shifted, his nervousness drawing all color from his face. "There are far too many pointed objects aimed at my head for comfort. If you don't come up with a tactic of utter brilliance, I may just decide that prison was rather cozy afterall. What's the strategy, mate?" 

"Shut your gob." Spike's hands clenched as he counted them. "Twenty against two," he called out, spinning in a slow circle to demonstrate his weaponless state. "Not very fair odds, but we're not here to fight. Don't even have any weapons, as you can see. We've come to deal. Where is your General?"

            A large man dressed in a black tunic came down the steps. "I am the General," said, stopping in front of Spike and giving him a measuring stare. "General Iago. State your name and your business here."

            "I'm here on behalf of the Slayer. As for my business, well, ever hear the phrase, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Spike squared his shoulders. "Don't generally believe that, myself, but I'm not much of one for following the rules. You want the Key. We want the girl. Neither of us have a sodding clue where the monks have gone, but you might know something we don't."

            "You've come to bargain for the girl's life?" Iago stroked the hilt of his sword absently. "We must destroy the Key. It is too dangerous a tool to be allowed to exist."

            "You think we want it? All we want is the girl. You can do whatever you like with the Key, so long as we get her back safely." Spike let his arms fall to his sides. "All we want is Dawn."

            Tilting his head in assent, Iago said, "If that is how the Slayer feels, then perhaps we can come to an agreement. We know more than you realize."

            Spike raised an eyebrow. "Much?"

            Iago released the sword and beckoned Spike towards the porch. "Come inside. We've a great deal to discuss."

*****

"I never thought I'd see the day when William the Bloody would prostrate himself before the Slayer," Giles said.

"He- what?"  
  


"Spike bowed to you. That's what it's like, then? Spike wins back his soul and suddenly develops good manners?" 

Buffy sat on the bed and pulled off her shoes. "Weird, huh? But he wasn't like that before we went skipping through our memories." Flinging her shoes into the corner, she fell back against the pillows. Her head was spinning, her vision blackening more by the moment. _I'm going to have one hell of a head-ache when I wake up. Stupid Watcher. Stupid Vampire. Could've at least waited till I took a shower before they made me all faint and helpless-girly. _"He wasn't big with the sanity when I found him in his crypt."

            "Before you met with the Seer, he was… unstable?" Giles pulled the blanket up from the foot of the bed and tucked it around her shoulders. Switching off the lamp, he found a desk chair and placed it by the bedside. Before he sat, he adjusted the window blinds, blocking out the orange glare of a streetlight. "Then perhaps there was a point in the memories the Seer took you to after all."

            "Like what? They made no sense. We saw me all little and cute, then me dying, then me in a grave. And then there was the part where we were in the future, but I don't know how much I trust that. Or any of it, really. Who knows what that Seer had up his sleeve? He wasn't exactly big on the trustworthiness' scale."

            "Think, for a moment, of the memories from Spike's perspective rather than your own. If you were Spike- no, forget that. If you were… under a tremendous amount of guilt, suffering for terrible wrongs you'd committed while you were, for all it mattered, held hostage by a demon in your body, what memories would alleviate the pain?"

            Buffy rolled onto her side, facing him. Gathering a shank of blanket under her cheek, she tried to get comfortable. "You're saying the Seer was trying to make Spike feel better?"

            "The memories showed Spike the man inside him. Even the scene from your childhood served to bring out his humanity."

            "So you think that was the whole point? The Seer had to keep us unconscious for a while and it thought like 'oh, by the way, here's some help with that pesky, guilt-induced case of the crazies'? I guess that makes as much sense as any of this."  

            "The monks told you the Seer worked on the side of good."

            "True, but I'm not feeling too hot about trusting their word either. Not after… everything." _Amazing how stealing from my body can hamper the trust factor. _"Giles… what they did to me… to Spike… they had no right."

            "I wondered how you felt about Spike being Dawn's, well… after a fashion, Dawn's father." Running restless fingers through his hair, he said, "I know the particular emotions it arose in me."

            "It could be worse. It could have been Ethan." 

            Slapping his hands down on the tops of his thighs, Giles groaned. "You always do know just how to vex me in the most revolting way possible."

            "That's my job," Buffy said. Her lips curved upwards in an attempt at optimism he could not see in the dimness. "Seriously… yeah, the thought of Dawn being part-vamp is beyond terrifying. But now we have a chance to give her a normal life. If we can get to her before they stick the Key in her, she won't have to worry about hell gods or anything, not ever again. Besides, if she wasn't craving blood and burning in the sun before, she won't be now. Right?"

            "True. But Buffy… Spike?"

            Curling her legs up to her chest, Buffy said, "I know."

            "This can't be easy for you." He touched her shoulder, his fingers a white flash in the darkness. "After all you've gone through in the last few years, I'm amazed at how well you're holding up."

            "Me too, a little," she admitted. "All I can think of right now is getting Dawn back in one piece. Nothing else makes sense to me. It's all freaked-out genetics and paradoxes and time travel and… confusing stuff. Spike. I can't think about that until she's safe."

            "That's an excellent attitude. Very mature. It's… it's gratifying to see." 

            "It's not mature. I just don't have any other options. You want the truth? I'm beyond freaked. It's not just that Dawn is _now_ part Spike, it's that she always was and I never knew it. Suddenly, everything I thought I knew is… Giles, things are so… so complicated. I thought Spike was evil. Even when we were… even then, I thought he was bad, with a capital b. A monster. But Dawn… all that time, she had parts of him- his _essence_- inside of her. And she's not bad, she's not evil. Not at all. How can that be? How could someone so good come from someone who was… a monster?"

            "You still believe Spike is evil?"

"No. See, that's what's making me so mixed up. He was evil, at one point. And then he got the chip, he started to do good things, and sort of shifted into the gray area. I never saw it like that though. My brain doesn't tend to think in gray areas. Black or right, good or bad, pure or evil, that's how my brain works. Maybe it's because I'm a Slayer. You know? Like, to help me do my job, my mind reduces stuff to the simplest form. It tells me, don't think, just kill or protect. One or the other."

            "Then you are faced with nebulous creatures like Spike. And Dawn."

            "And my mind sorta goes plooey." Fingering the edge of the blanket, she collected her thoughts before continuing. "I don't think Spike's bad now. He has a soul. And Dawn, she has a soul too. Maybe that's the line I've always been looking for, the one that separates people into kill or protect. I just… how am I going to tell Dawn? She's already so confused about where she came from."

            "At this point, Buffy, you'd do well to put these questions on the backburner until we're through this crisis. Afterwards, there will be time to process this all, time to decide how best to approach it with Dawn. But for now…"  

"Until Dawn's back in one piece, I have to…" She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest. "I have to deal."

            Giles stood, but crouched over and spoke to her at eye level. "And you can do that?"

            "Not alone." One hand shot out and squeezed his quickly. "Thanks for coming."

            "There's no need for thanks between us. But… thank you for that." Coughing, he straightened. "If there's anything you need, I'll be in the other room. Ethan bears a close watching, asleep or awake. And you, Buffy, should be asleep. You can't help Dawn if you get yourself killed out of exhaustion." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a bottle of pills and gave her one. "Take this. Just one more. It'll top you off."

            "What if the Knights show up? I won't be able to fight."

            "You'll be fine. No one knows you're here." 

            Swallowing the pill dry, she burrowed under the covers. "G'night."

            Giles waited by the window until her breathing evened. When he was sure she slept, he took a blanket from the foot of the bed and made himself a pallet on the floor. "Good night," he whispered, knowing she would not hear him. _Sleep tight. Anyone wanting to get to you will have to kill me first. _

*****

She awoke little by little to the feel of a hand stroking her hair. The temptation to roll over and go back to sleep was great but then she remembered. _Gotta get up. Dawn's waiting. _"M'awake," she slurred, jerking upright, the last remnants of unconsciousness clinging even as she forced her mind to focus. "Time to go?"

"Take a minute, Slayer. You look even more dead than I do." 

_Spike. _She had assumed it was Giles sitting in the chair beside the bed. Getting her elbows under her, she scooted upright. She scrubbed at her dry, grainy-feeling eyes. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough." He smiled, an odd, self-satisfied smile reminiscent of the sort of grin he'd given her countless times before his trip to Africa. 

She combed her tangled hair with her fingers, dazed by a pang of loss at the sight of his happiness. It had been months since he'd looked at her that way, with that particular spark in his eyes. Before his soul, certainly. _Before he stopped smiling all together. Not that he didn't have a good reason. And not that all the guilt was misplaced. He killed and he should feel beyond bad because that's what people with souls do. Even knowing it wasn't really his fault, even knowing that the demon was the real killer, it was still his body, his hands. He should feel bad, at least at first. It's **human** for him to feel bad until he can logic it into the back of his head. But all the same… it's nice to know he can still smile like that. _"How long?" she repeated, swallowing down the tightness in her throat.

His grin widened. "Long enough for me to find you a present."

_A present? Spike got me a…what would he get me? What's going on? _Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she arranged the robe around her shoulders. "What are you talking about? What present?"

            "You'll see. Here," he said, handing her a bundle. "Put these on and come out to the living room."

            _Clothes. _She unfolded them, finding her oldest jeans and cozy black sweater. _Not just any clothes, but my comfy, had-a-bad-day clothes. _"You went to my house?"

            "I did, yes." He put the chair back in its place by the desk, his back to her. "Thought you might like your own things. Monastic brown is not your color."

            "You risked your life to get me clothes?" The words resonated shrilly in the cocooning darkness. Spike flinched just a little, the movement so small Buffy would not have noticed it had she not been staring at him in disbelief. Moderating her tone, she caught his eye as he faced her and said, "Must have been hard to sneak in, what with the Knights there and all."

            "Wasn't easy, that's for bloody sure." Opening the door, he turned back, one hand on the frame. "Get dressed and come out, Slayer. There's work to be done. A girl to be saved."

            "I'll be a minute," Buffy said. She stood and unfolded the sweater. "You go ahead. Start plotting with Giles. We've gotta pull together a plan." 

            "Already half-done," he replied. He pulled something small and lacy from his jeans pocket and tossed it to her. "Don't forget these."

            Looking down at her lap, she found her black lace bra and panties. _These always were his favorite on me._ "Thanks," she said, but he was already gone.


End file.
